Breakthrough
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Post-Ep for 4x10: 'Cuffed'. 'Her body is buzzing with energy, pure adrenalin still racing through her veins, when Castle dumps her own handcuffs into the box of belongings she's currently holding, giving her a loaded look that she's too keyed up to decipher when she slowly drags her eyes up to meet his.'
1. Chapter 1 - Tear Down

_A/N: So, I recently saw the picture I've used for the cover art to this story and I realized that I've never written a 'Cuffed' post-ep. The image kind of stuck in my head until I got this down on paper. I hope you will indulge me, please, while I get 'In Some Corner' out of my system? I seem to be in more of an angsty mood right now. This one should be pretty short._

_So, this story is based on the premise that the show ended immediately after Castle and Beckett were rescued from the basement by Ryan and Esposito. Imagine the story fading to black after Captain Gates gives them back their belongings and the whole team walks out of the old warehouse together. _

_We pick up from there..._

* * *

_"Castle, I did not survive a bullet to the heart to die as tiger kibble."_

_**- Detective Kate Beckett**, Castle 4x10: 'Cuffed'_

* * *

**_Chapter 1: Tear Down_**

Her body is buzzing with energy, pure adrenalin still racing through her veins, when Castle dumps her own handcuffs into the box of belongings she's currently holding, giving her a loaded look that she's too keyed up to decipher when she slowly drags her eyes up to meet his.

She feels restless and edgy, like she could run a marathon without pausing for breath, despite not having eaten for hours or had any real rest. Unless you count waking up on a dirty mattress next to Castle…_cuffed _to Castle. Kate's cheeks get warm at the memory of that particular incident – her hand on his chest with the warmth of his body bleeding into her fingertips, her other arm snaking beneath his neck. Were they posed like that or did…? No, she can't have.

She's vaguely aware of the boys bantering with Castle, hears the little growl Ryan makes when he does his 'Tony the Tiger' impersonation. But when she glances over at their little group, Castle is looking back at her. _Directly_ at her. He might have a smile fixed on his face that the boys could mistake for him being part of their teasing, playful conversation. But his eyes tell a different tale. He's detached from the rest of the company, he's looking right at her and that isn't good.

* * *

Kate strides ahead, making for the doors and fresh air, eager to get out of the dark, airless, dusty building they've been trapped in for hours. Eager to put some space between herself and her partner and the feelings of panic and longing that keep rising in her chest. Yes, _longing_, she screams inside her head. _'That's what you're feeling. He touched you and you touched him and you liked it, Kate. Deal with it,_' her inner voice screams.

They were a team today, maybe something even closer than that. And so what if they bickered at first. When they finally _'found their rhythm'_ as Castle rather suggestively put it - given some of the physical maneuvers they got up to down there - they were a damn good team. But it feels like more than that, whether she's ready or not. She's pretty sure she isn't, but something inside of her is pushing to get out today, and she's not sure what it is.

Captain Gates catches up with her as she stands outside in the fading daylight drawing lungful's of fresh air in through her nose, trying to center herself, to calm down, her eyes temporarily closed.

"Detective, take the rest of the day. You can file your report in the morning. Ryan and Esposito can handle things for now. You look like you could use a break. Both of you," says Gates, glancing back at Castle, who's standing a little way away with the boys, and yet, _not_ with the boys.

Because he's still looking at her.

"Thank you, Sir," says Kate, feeling her skin prickle under Castle's loaded, penetrating stare.

She doesn't know what to do now. This day has been one of their weirder ones by far – drugged, cuffed, the tiger, and then everything else that was layered under, over, around and in between all of that.

"Hey, guys!" Kate hears Ryan call out, and she spins round to face him. "You need a ride?"

Kate immediately looks over at Castle and finds that he's still looking at her, only now he's wearing an expression that says: _'You decide. Ball's in your court.'_

Her heart pounds, but she makes the dangerous choice anyway. "Eh…thanks, Ryan. But I think maybe I'll walk for a bit, get some fresh air. I could do with stretching my legs." She scuffs the ground with the toe of her boot waiting to see if Castle will speak up too. "I can take a cab."

They are in some kind of industrial area, a little off the beaten track. Not accepting a ride home after the day they've had is more than odd, but she can't bring herself to go home alone just yet.

"What about you, bro?" asks Esposito, eyeing them both suspiciously.

"I…uh—" he hesitates, eyes sliding over to meet Kate's again. "I should call Alexis. Let her know I'm okay. I'll keep Beckett company. Then maybe catch a cab too," he shrugs, trying to play off-hand. "Thanks for the offer."

"Yeah, thanks guys. See you tomorrow," adds Kate, glancing at Castle again, her expression serious, forehead drawn into a partial frown.

* * *

Ryan and Esposito watch them for a moment or two more before slowly getting into their car.

"Well, that was weird. What d'you think's wrong with mom and dad?" asks Ryan, continuing to study them through the windshield as he fastens his seatbelt.

"I'm thinking it's not what's wrong, but maybe what's _right_, bro," says Esposito, firing up the engine.

"What? Wait. _No!_ You don't think—?" frowns Ryan, whipping his head round to look at his partner. He turns back to stare at Castle and Beckett again, examining them for clues. "Nah! Down there?" asks Ryan, wrinkling up his nose in distaste at the thought of them doing anything down in that damp hellhole.

"Stranger things, man," mutters Esposito, raising his hand in a wave as they drive past the writer and his muse, who are still standing meters apart, making no move to get on their way. "With those two, anything is possible."

"In front of Tony the Tiger?" murmurs Ryan, almost to himself.

"As I said, stranger things when you're staring death in the face. And cuffed together," he adds, with a wink and a smirk.

* * *

And then suddenly they are alone again.

"So…which way?" asks Castle, looking left and right.

"Shouldn't you call Alexis?"

"I might be a man, but I can still walk and talk."

Kate laughs quietly, scraping a hand through her hair and then she looks down at the ground. "Yeah, right. Sorry. How about I lead, you talk?"

"And the universe is restored to its rightful axis," jokes Castle.

Kate turns right, following the road that Ryan and Esposito have just driven down. She stuffs her hands in the pockets of her coat and Castle falls in step with her, the glow from his cell phone screen illuminating his face.

Alexis' tinny, high-pitched voice can be heard echoing out of Castle's phone seconds later.

"_Dad?_ Is that really you?"

Castle laughs, glances at Kate, and keeps walking, switching back into daddy Castle mode as easily as he segued into that of bickering husband down in the basement. He's an actor, just like his mother. Must be in the genes, she thinks, a little uncharitably.

"Yes, pumpkin, we're both fine. Kate is here with me now. _Home?_" he repeats, with a hopeful, questioning lilt to his voice.

Kate looks at him sharply, frowns and shakes her head.

"Uh—we're just…we're taking a walk. Yes, I said walk," he repeats, performing a little embarrassed laugh at his daughter's surprise that he's out walking anywhere. "Promise I'll tell you all about the tiger when I get home. In a while. I'm not sure how long the…uh…the paperwork might take. I'll call if I'm going to be late."

Kate snorts derisively at his suggestion that he might have anything to do with actual paperwork, and then hot on the heels of that thought she wonders why he's lying to his daughter. She knows why, of course, she just doesn't want to admit it to herself yet.

Castle hangs up the phone and jams it back into his pocket.

"_Paperwork?_" asks Kate, giving him a nudge. "Seriously? You think Alexis will believe you're helping out with paperwork?"

"I hate lying to her, but I didn't know what else to say," he admits with a candor that Kate finds alarming.

If he's prepared to be this honest about deceiving his daughter, there's a good chance he's on the verge of being honest about other things too. She's not sure she's ready for that, especially the way her body is still reacting to him after their enforced proximity today.

* * *

She lets out a long, slow breath before she speaks. "Maybe this walk was a bad idea," she says, staring straight ahead.

Old warehouse buildings line the alley they're walking along, left and right.

"Not the most salubrious neighborhood you've ever taken me to," Castle remarks, attempting to make a joke.

"Hmm, kinda like that hotel that rents rooms by the hour? I'm sensing a theme," she muses, also attempting to keep the mood light, since without the threat of imminent death to distract them, there's a distinct risk of things turning far too serious, far too quickly.

"Not one of our better decisions," admits Castle, looking up at the dirty, broken windows, the concealed doorways; every one now bathed in threatening dark shadows.

"Don't worry, Castle. I have my gun. I'll protect you," says Kate, trying to be chipper and alleviate the tension.

"Don't say that. Luck we've had today, a herd of elephants will charge around the next corner any second and stampede right towards us."

"Always the drama queen," sighs Kate witheringly, deciding for certain that this walk was a dumb idea and needs to be over soon.

* * *

Esposito suddenly pulls the car over, brakes sharply, and then quickly reverses back into an alley, jerking to a stop and killing the lights.

"Javi, what are you doing?"

"Waiting."

"For what?"

"Just watch that block across the street. Keep your eyes peeled for mom and dad."

"You're _spying_ on _Beckett?_ What about Gates? She'll be wondering where we are after that little speech about calling in."

"Do you want to find out what's going on between those two or not?" challenges Esposito.

Ryan hesitates for just a second. "Turn the heater on, the windshield's fogging up."

* * *

"There's got to be some traffic on a street around here somewhere. We'll grab a cab as soon as we see one," says Kate, looking around for the most likely route out of Dodge.

They walk on in silence for thirty seconds before Castle speaks again.

"You felt it, didn't you?" he asks out of nowhere.

Kate's blood runs cold.

She fires back the only response she can think of, trying to steady her voice when she speaks. "Felt what?"

"Kate, don't play games."

"_Castle_," she sighs, with well-practised annoyance, rubbing at her bruised wrist. "I've had a lousy day. Let's just get out of here."

But he ignores her diversionary remark and sticks to his own topic of conversation.

"So, you're really gonna try and pretend that you didn't feel anything?" asks Castle, his tone shot through with challenge. "Then what are we doing here, hmm? Walking through some abandoned…what even is this?" he asks, looking up at the dereliction and industrial decay surrounding them. "_Really?_ After the day we've just had?"

The walk that seemed like a chance to talk or something - when the prospect of sharing a car ride with the guys seemed far too public a way to transition back down from what they'd just been through together - now seems like the craziest decision she's made in a long time.

"This stupid walk was a bad idea," mutters Kate. "I need a shower. We haven't eaten anything in hours. I don't know what I was thinking. First cab we see—"

"Kate, cut it out," snaps Castle, completely shocking her.

"_Me?_" she practically screeches, stopping dead to stare at him in anger.

She grips his shoulder, her raised arm coming to rest on top of his, and then she wheels him round, staggering into him hard, propelled forward by her own momentum. Her body collides with his and then her lips are on him. Her hands seize hold of his cheeks and jaw, framing his face, and she pushes up on her toes to plunder his mouth. Everything about the kiss is rough, desperate and forceful, as if this is how she needs to be to finally make this happen. As if anything more tender or delicate would simply be too painful for her.

She crowds him back towards the screening shelter of the building. After a second of total shock, Castle's hands land on her hips, gripping her with equal ferocity while she continues her assault on his mouth. He finds himself joining in enthusiastically (since that's what partners do, right) until his shoulder hits a wall, and he feels himself tipping over from safe to unsafe and, abruptly, he stops her.

In his mind, he's fighting a terrible push-pull of emotion – need, want, lust and desire warring with care, respect, decency and love.

The latter group wins, and he pushes her away, staggers backwards, catching his elbow on a rusty, cast iron downspout.

"Stop! I'm not doing this with you," he says, shaking his head and holding up his hands to ward her off.

Blood pounds in his ears and his heart thuds frantically in his chest. But there's no need to keep her at bay, she looks too shocked by his actions to do anything anyway.

"Not here," he adds more gently, for clarity sake.

Kate stares at him, her eyes large, wild and wounded, her chest heaving. She looks at him as if he's just betrayed her.

"Kate, I said _not_ _here_," he repeats, hoping she can hear him. "Not…not _ever_," he tacks on, already watching her shut down on him, making his heart sink.

* * *

She immediately turns away from him then and begins striding hard and fast towards what she hopes is civilization and a cab of any make, model or medallion.

"Kate, don't be like that," he yells after her, slapping his thigh in frustration as he watches her walk away, getting smaller and smaller as she recedes into the distance and the darkness begins to swallow her up.

He jogs, catches up with her by the time she reaches the end of a particularly long loading bay.

"Come on, talk to me," he pleads, grabbing for her arm.

But she manages to shrug him off, throwing one shoulder back like a seasoned Yankee's pitcher without even breaking stride.

"I made a stupid mistake, okay," she says angrily. "This walk, that…that _kiss_… _Ahhh!_" she growls, annoyed with herself more than him, searching left and right for a cab now that they've finally hit something that resembles an actual public road.

"Finally a kiss you're not ignoring!" declares Castle, flinching when she spins on her heel immediately and jabs him hard in the chest.

"What did you just say?"

He's about to answer her when his eyes go wide at something he's just spotted behind her shadow, and he stops with his lips parted, the words drying up instantly.

A vehicle pulls up to the curb behind them, accompanied by a short blast of the horn, and Kate turns around with a sigh of "Finally, a goddam cab."

Only it's not.

"Hey, guys! Guys? Need a lift?" yells Esposito, leaning out of the window with an amused look on his face.

Kate glares at Castle and then she lets out another roar of frustration, before pushing past him to yank open the back door of the Charger.

Castle follows her, but before he can scoot in behind her she slams the door in his face, so that he's forced to head round to the passenger side and get in behind Ryan.

"Did you guys forget something?" asks Castle, wondering why they're still in the vicinity.

"Uh…yeah…" mutters Esposito, though he's no more forthcoming with details.

"I felt like Lebanese food," lobs in Ryan, his blatant lie about as dainty as a hand grenade in a confessional box. He glances shiftily at his partner. "Thought I saw a place earlier…" he adds, trailing off before he can dig both of them into a bigger hole.

"You don't even like Lebanese food," snaps Kate, staring out the window so that she doesn't have to look at Castle, who has now settled in beside her in the back seat of the car, making sure to keep his distance.

She hates herself right now. _She_ kissed _him_, and he was quite right about a dirty, dark warehouse wall in some abandoned industrial wasteland not being the place for any of that. Not for them. Not anymore. Not ever. And she overacted. He made himself clear – _not here, not now_ – and now she's behaving like some hysterical, rejected teen.

* * *

"Where can we drop you?" asks Esposito, eyeing Kate in the rearview mirror.

"Just…can you take me home?" she asks, squirming in her seat, unable to force herself to even look at Castle anymore.

"What about you, bro?" Esposito asks Castle. "You going home too?"

"Uh…yeah. Loft would be great, if it's not too big of a detour," says Castle distractedly.

When Kate sneaks a glance at him when they slow at the next stoplight, he's typing something on his phone.

She tuts and sullenly turns away to stare out the window again, imagining him arranging a date with some nubile, bubbly young thing - her mind so twisted by exhaustion, disappointment and hunger that she isn't even thinking straight anymore.

They pull up outside Castle's building first, and he's just shutting his phone down when Kate's cell phone chimes to alert her to the arrival of a text. She fishes it out of her pocket and is opening the text facility when Castle gets out of the car and slams the door behind him.

The text is from him. It reads: 'Call me later? We need to talk.'

She glances up just in time to see him raise his hand to her through the side window. His gesture is something like a wave, but he also has his cell phone in his hand, reinforcing his assertion that he wants to talk to her. She's still staring, but has no time to react or respond to him when Esposito suddenly pulls away from the curb, bouncing over potholes to join the flow of traffic headed along Broome Street.

When she turns to look back at her partner through the rear window, he's still standing on the corner of his block, one hand raised in a parting wave, staring after the disappearing car, his face a picture of grim determination.

_TBC..._

* * *

_Love to hear your thoughts if you have time._


	2. Chapter 2 - Surveying The Damage

_A/N: Yet again I've been amazed by your enthusiasm for this story. I know 'Cuffed' is a favorite episode for a lot of people, and I'm also aware it was a great inspiration for fan fiction stories at the time it aired. So, thank you for indulging me as I belatedly add one of my own._

* * *

_"There are many things that we would throw away _

_if we were not afraid that others might pick them up."_

**_- Oscar Wilde_**

* * *

**_Chapter 2 – Surveying The Damage_**

The boys drop Kate off at her own apartment building next, and she's grateful for the silence they permit her on the journey over from Castle's place in SoHo. No crazy questions about tigers or teasing about what really went on down in that basement while they were chained to one another and left alone for hours.

Esposito lets the engine idle once he pulls to a stop on her block, and the boys swivel in their seats to look at her.

"Everything okay with you and Castle?" asks Ryan, just as she gets a grip on the door handle and is about to exit the car.

Yes, the way her day has been going, escaping without some kind of interrogation from Crockett and Tubs was just too good to be true.

"Fine," she replies flatly, dryly, sinking back against the seat.

Everything about her feels dry right now – her eyes, her mouth, her throat are all parched. Even her heart feels as arid as a fucking desert and her stomach is so empty she feels like she might retch.

"You sure, because—"

Kate sighs and she lets go of the door handle to press her fingertips into her eye sockets. "I appreciate your concern, guys, I do. But it's been a really long day. Try imagining being chained to Castle for hours. The man can talk the hind legs off a donkey at the best of times," she points out, hoping they might be deflected by humor and the vision she's just painted of the talkative writer they all know so well.

"Shame his charm doesn't work on tigers," quips Esposito, making Ryan laugh.

"Right," nods Kate, biting her lip, instantly feeling guilty for mocking the man who did nothing but work as hard as he could to try and get them out of there today.

His words to her, when he thought they'd reached the end of the line, when he was facing up to the urgent reality of their failure to find a way out, the tiger circling below, ready to pounce and knock them to the floor – _'I'm so sorry. I've got nothing else.'_ He had apologized _to_ _her_ as if liberating them both from that hellish dungeon had been _his_ responsibility alone. It had pained her to hear him sounding so defeated. His words had bolstered her then, driven her to a new level of determination to find a way to save them, and the same words galvanize her again now.

"Actually, I'm not being fair to him," she confesses to Ryan and Esposito, smoothing her hands down over her jeans. "I couldn't have gotten through today if it hadn't been for Castle," she admits, with a brusque nod of her head, before turning away to reach for the door.

She's aware of the boys' uncharacteristic silence as she pulls on the handle and cracks the door an inch or two. "Thanks for the ride. I'll see you in the morning," she says, getting out of the car and leaving them both speechless.

* * *

Once back inside her own apartment, exhaustion comes quickly. She manages to unfasten the gold buttons on her military style coat, dropping it haphazardly onto a chair, and then she stands in front of her kitchen sink for ten minutes, drinking glass after glass of cold water, trying to quench her seemingly unquenchable thirst. Her empty stomach eventually protests the sudden influx of cold, calorie less liquid, and she plants the glass back down heavily in the sink, before restlessly searching her refrigerator for something simple to eat.

She gives up, snatches a packet of dry crackers from the cabinet instead, taking them through to the bedroom with her. She strips her clothes off, crunching crackers and dropping her blue sweater, jeans and underwear on the floor wherever they land.

The shower is next. She turns it on, leaves it to run good and hot while she returns to the bedroom in search of more crackers. Above the noise of the running water she hears her cell phone ringing and she freezes, not yet ready to face the man she's sure will be on the other end of the line.

After several rings and a long pause of hesitation, she runs naked into the living room, feels for her phone in her coat pocket, and then swipes at the screen without looking.

"Listen, Castle, I'm just about to get into the shower. Can I call you back?" she asks breathlessly.

There's a pregnant pause on the line and she waits, her heart pounding for his reply, which she's pretty sure will be heavily loaded with disappointment on his end, since he asked her to call him and she didn't.

What she actually gets startles her.

"Is that your miserable attempt at telling Richard Castle that you're _naked_? Because, girlfriend, if it is, I'm not surprised you're still single."

"Lanie," sighs Kate, breaking off into a nervous laugh. She presses a hand to her chest, where her heart is still hammering beneath her ribs. "I—I'm sorry. I was expecting Castle. I didn't even look at my phone before I answered it."

"_Clearly_," says Lanie, tartly. "What's writer boy doing calling you at night anyway? Is this some new development I'm not aware of?"

"We had a hell of a day, I'm sure you heard. He said he'd call to check on me later," she lies to her friend, crossing her fingers behind her back as the words tumble far too easily from her lips.

"_Mmm-hmm_," hums Lanie, sassily, her lack of confidence in Kate's reply clear to hear. "Are you sure that's the reason? Because you know I can always tell if you're holding something back, Kate Beckett, even if I can't see your pretty face."

* * *

Kate pads back through to the bedroom, and then she sinks down on the end of her bed, crossing her legs and leaning over her growling stomach to rest her elbow just above her knee.

"I kissed him, Lanie," she confesses with a sigh, tipping her head forward and pressing the heel of her hand against her brow.

"_I knew it!_" squeals Lanie, her excitement over this development unknowingly inappropriate. "Did you make out while you were locked in the basement? I mean you had nothing else to do, right? Javi said there was a mattress down there. I want details, honey. First or second base?"

Kate groans while Lanie fires off this volley of questions, and her friend misconstrues the noise.

"You got to _third?_" she squeaks. "Kate Beckett, you dark horse!"

"Stop. No, Lanie, stop. He didn't want me," confesses Kate, her cheeks flaming again at the uncomfortable memory of how he pulled away from her in the alley.

Lanie's end of the line suddenly goes quiet. "I—I'm sorry? Did you just say—? Is the man _insane_? I know you were both drugged today, is—did he look _normal_ to you?" she asks, her voice full of indignation and incredulity on her friend's behalf.

"It wasn't the drugs," sighs Kate. "Okay, so maybe it wasn't an out and out rejection. More like he stopped me from going any further given we were…"

"_What?_ Kinkily chained to one another?"

"Outside. In a dark alley. Surrounded by derelict buildings."

Lanie snorts. "You always pick such romantic spots to proposition a beau?" she asks, dryly.

"_A beau?_ What is this, the seventeenth century? _No_, it was a spur of the moment thing after we got out. We'd just spent hours cuffed to one another and…"

"Oh, honey, you don't have to explain," interrupts Lanie. "I know exactly how _that_ goes."

* * *

Kate closes her eyes and shakes her head, tucking her hair behind her ear. She tries to fight off the images that pop into her head of Esposito cuffed to Lanie's headboard. Not helping. And then she's immediately assaulted by images of herself and Castle together today. Images she's managed to hold at bay until now.

How he touched her when he lifted her shirt - so tenderly – his fingers lingering on her skin as if he never wanted to let go. If she hadn't stopped him, would he have been bold enough to slide his hand further up under her sweater, to cup her breast, spread his fingers wide over her abdomen? How her body had burned for him. She squeezes her thighs tightly together now and closes her eyes to ward of the flood of longing that courses through her. The cool bedroom air chills her naked skin and her nipples tighten.

She remembers how he held her hand – surprised she asked him to at first – but pretty soon it was as if they'd been wandering around holding hands like that forever. And when they kicked the wall down together and he admired her legs, she was reminded of the attraction he mostly kept to himself these days, out of respect for her lack of readiness to pursue anything more with him, she assumes. That he has to keep these thoughts and compliments to himself, because she's still so buttoned up, makes her feel closed off and slightly pathetic.

And when he got behind her to push the freezer, oh God, she could feel him, could feel _everything_ for the first time – the heat from his large body soaking into hers, the hardness of his thighs, his muscles - the power behind his big, masculine frame had made her mouth water. And later, when she clambered up over him to get to the ceiling hatch, his hands all over her, she was so distracted and aroused that she nearly toppled to the floor, until she pulled herself together and focused on how desperately she didn't want them to die down there, never having had a chance to explore any of the feelings that were swelling to the surface today.

She focuses on those feelings again now – not just the physical connection she feels to him or the physical attraction she's certain they share - but the same powerful gust of emotion that blew right through her after the explosion in the bank; that if he was no longer in this world, there would be no place left for her either. That feeling and the passion she shared with him today when she took a chance and kissed him.

So she wants to tell her friend that it wasn't like that, that it's never been like that – just some sexual temptation she needs to deal with and get over. Jump his bones and get it out of her system. This is serious, could be life changing for both of them, and it's that very seriousness that's getting in the way of her dealing with the situation properly. She simply doesn't trust herself to handle it right.

* * *

"Lanie, I have to go," she says suddenly. "The shower's still running and I haven't eaten yet," she explains to her friend, not in the mood to hear Lanie speculate about how talented the writer might be cuffed to a bed, if only Kate could pluck up the courage to get him there.

But that's when Lanie surprises her.

"Sweetie, if you're feeling bad right now, just imagine how Castle must be feeling," she says, with clarity and kindness that stops Kate in her tracks. "Why don't you call him, hon? Get all the awkwardness out of the way on the phone, and then things can go back to normal tomorrow."

But only as Lanie makes this sensible suggestion does Kate realize that she doesn't want things to go back to normal – for the awkward wrinkle to be smoothed over and then forever ignored. She kissed him for a reason, and maybe at the time she was angry with him for pushing her and fired up by having been so physically close to him for hours on end. But she'd still do it again given half a chance.

"Thanks, Lanie. You've been a big help," Kate tells her friend, bidding her a good night with more haste and enthusiasm than she began the call.

She casually drops her phone onto the bed and then heads to the bathroom and the shower she's been longing to stand under for the last several hours. She'll just wash her hair, get cleaned up and then she'll call Castle and they can talk, she promises herself, pushing the bathroom door closed.

* * *

She's wrapping her damp hair in a towel, her sore muscles a little looser, her skin pink and warm from its recent pummeling, when she comes back out into the bedroom wearing a short, terrycloth bathrobe. Her feet and legs are bare and she yawns when she sits down on the edge of the bed, can't seem to help it when her eyes drift closed. She lies back against her pillows and lifts her feet off the floor, swinging her legs up onto the bed, stretching out to rest for just a moment, she tells herself.

What feels like mere seconds later, but is in reality closer to an hour, she wakes with a start at the sound of her phone ringing. She sits bolt upright, rising so fast that she feels dizzy in the erratic heartbeats that follow while she fishes near the bottom of the bed for her phone.

This time she does check the screen before answering and this time the caller is exactly who she expects it to be. Her stomach lurches at the sight of the writer's handsome, smiling face on her caller I.D.. She bites her lip, blows out a short calming breath, and taps on the green button to accept the call.

"Kate?"

"Castle, what time is it?" she asks, and she can hear the grogginess in her own voice, so she supposes he will too.

"Were you sleeping? I hope I didn't wake you," he says, and she can hear relief in his voice for some reason she doesn't immediately understand.

However she expected him to behave, this isn't it.

"I just took a shower, then lay down for a second…I must have fallen asleep."

"Are you okay?" he asks with genuine concern.

Kate takes a deep breath, wondering where his anger has gone. "Actually, no. I'm not," she admits.

"Are you…sick or…? Is it the drugs we were given? I mean, I feel fine, but maybe you should call a doctor. Get checked out."

She's shaking her head, waiting for a pause in his stream of caring suggestions to get a word in edgeways. Finally she gets her chance when he pauses for breath. "Castle, could you just be quiet for a second?"

The line goes so silent she begins to wonder if he's hung up on her or maybe her cell reception has dropped out.

"Castle? Are you still there?" she asks, listening intently for any signs of life, breathing, anything.

"Yeah. I'm here," he replies stiffly.

"Okay, good." But suddenly she's not exactly sure what she wants to say to him.

She just asked him to shut up as if she had some big speech she wanted to make, and now all she can think is: this is taking us too long, we're going to miss our chance. Ever since the bank robbery she's felt things slipping through her fingers, as if Martha's interruption broke the magic spell and ruined their one perfect moment.

* * *

"Look…I just wanted to check you were okay," interjects Castle, ever the patient gentleman, backing away when she doesn't immediately say anything further. Letting her off the hook again.

She knows he's lying, but she doesn't call him on it. Not yet.

"I'll let you get some rest," he continues, making excuses. "Catch up with you at the precinct tomorrow."

They don't do long phone calls at night or ever. She only calls to tell him about a body drop or occasionally to give him an update on some crucial piece of evidence they've found. But they always keep it short. Their flirtatious banter the morning Castle called from the bank, right before being taken hostage, is probably one of the longest conversations they've ever had on the phone. So, no, they don't do personal or trivial or gossip or banter or just call to catch up with each other's lives outside of work, making this, tonight, unusual and awkward. But if they have a shot at anything in future, getting over the awkwardness of a phone call is going to be the least of her worries.

"No! No, wait. Don't go," she blurts before she loses her nerve.

There's prolonged silence again, and she thumps her fist on the mattress in frustration, believing she's missed her chance once again – let him slip through her fingers.

"Cas—are you there?" she asks tentatively, maybe just a hint of panic creeping into her voice.

"Still here," he hums, and she can hear stains of amusement in his voice this time, his tone richer and warmer towards her.

Her cheeks get red when she realizes that he's probably laughing at her because she's screwing this up so completely. He probably thinks she sounds like a neurotic idiot.

"You _can_ hang up, you know," she says, deciding to play him at his own game, to tease him a little. Won't make today any worse, she decides.

"And why would I want to do that?" The low timbre of his voice makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"I don't know. You asked me to call so we could talk and I fell asleep instead."

"After today, you get a free pass. Sleeping is allowed."

"Thanks."

She hears him moving, the rustle of something that sounds suspiciously like bed linen in the background of the call.

"Are you in _bed?_" she asks, raising her voice.

She can hear him smirk when he replies.

"Might be. Why?"

"That's not fair."

"What's not fair about it?"

"Well…if you're in bed then you must have been sleeping too."

"_And…?_"

"And…you made me feel bad about falling asleep and forgetting to call you."

"Oh, so now you're admitting that you _forgot_ to call me? I see. I'm not sure how I feel about that, Beckett."

"No! Agh!" she growls, getting frustrated with this game. "I didn't forget…I just…I…"

She hears him move again, imagines him rolling onto his side, leaning up on one elbow, a clever grin on his face while he tortures her.

"Kate, it's okay," he says quietly, and his voice is suddenly so deep and intimate in her ear that shivers race up and down her spine.

"I'm no good at this," she confesses, lying back down on her own bed and turning over onto her stomach.

"I think you're doing just fine," replies Castle with that easygoing way of his, the one that used to drive her insane in the beginning and now puts her perfectly at ease.

* * *

She doesn't know what to say next, so she goes for what she hopes is a safe topic while they practice mastering the art of the long phone conversation.

"How was Alexis? Pleased to see you, I'll bet."

"Actually, I think she was a little disappointed not to see you this time."

If this is true, it surprises Kate. "_Me?_"

"Yeah. She's decided a celebration dinner should be in order every time we cheat death."

"Right," laughs Kate, a little taken aback by how thrilled she is to hear that.

"Actually, I think she just trusts your version of events over mine," confesses Castle, with a chuckle.

"Exaggerating the tiger stuff, were you?"

"You were the one who used the word _kibble_," he points out, laughing quietly into the phone.

"Yeah, well, it looked like we were all out of options at that point, I will admit. But I wasn't prepared to die just yet. Certainly not like that."

"I'm sorry I couldn't figure a way out of there for us sooner," he apologizes again.

"That's the second time you've said that, Castle. What makes you think it was your responsibility to get us out?"

"Don't hate me," he says, after a moment or two of hesitation.

"Why on earth would I hate you?"

"It's just the way I was brought up. Strong female role model, no father figure around. My mother raised me to be…_chivalrous_," he says witheringly, as if Martha had taught him to be a male chauvinist pig instead of the supportive, equal opportunities guy he is most of the time.

"What makes you think I don't appreciate chivalry?" counters Kate, catching him off-guard.

She knows they're flirting more than they would in person and she's starting to warm to this telephone banter thing, where you can say what you like and don't have to look the other person in the eye.

"You're the cop with the badge and the gun, as you're always reminding me. You don't need me fighting your battles for you. You're more than capable of looking after yourself," he says, sounding a little dejected at what he perceives to be his own uselessness.

But she wants him to appreciate that she is a woman too, behind the badge and the badass routine.

"Castle, in case you hadn't noticed, my badge and gun were of no use to either of us today. We survived down there because we worked as a team."

It's the truth, she isn't flannelling him or trying to make him feel better. But it does bear repeating.

"Are you even listening to me?" she asks, when he doesn't respond. "We make a good team," she insists, because that at least is a solid starting point for whatever else they might become.

"Yeah, we do make a good team, don't we?" he replies, sounding pleased with himself.

"Castle, are you doing something else while we're talking?" asks Kate, her suspicions raised by his slow response and the sporadic silences. "Do you have your iPad in front of you or—" She takes a sharp breath in. "God, please tell me you aren't looking at porn_?_"

"_Katherine Beckett!_" he scolds, sounding scandalized at the very thought, and though he laughs guiltily, he's quick to deny that he's up to anything else. "No! You have my undivided attention, I promise."

"Are you sure, because if you have something better to do—"

"No! I don't. Why? Do _you?_" he asks, suddenly the suspicious one.

"Why would you ask that?"

"_Well_…beautiful, engaging woman, the night is young. Maybe you have a date."

Silence. Her heart pounds, and she's so caught up in her own issues that she misses his tone completely when he suggests this.

"Why would I have a date?" she asks flatly, hating what his suggestion might imply – that he expects _her _to have a date because _he_ still goes on dates, or he doesn't care if she's dating because he doesn't want her for himself anyway.

"Because…that's what single people do?"

"_You're_ single. Well, at least I assume you are. Do you go on dates?" she asks boldly, suddenly desperate to know the truth.

"No." His answer is quick and resounding.

"Well, then. Neither of us have a date," she says, before she can fully think her comment through. It just pops out of her mouth because it pleases her inordinately that they are both being ridiculously faithful to one another when they're not even in a romantic relationship.

"Ever wonder why that is?" asks Castle, and the cool, calm way he asks this question makes her realize, like a bolt from the blue, that she's just backed herself into a corner and he's going in for the kill. He's going to force the discussion he wanted to have all along whether she's ready to or not.

"No," she says quickly, and who knew such a short, single syllabled word could make you sound so damned guilty.

"Really? So…you've never stayed in on a Saturday night, while the world and his future wife go out on dates, and wondered why we're the only two people sitting at home by ourselves? Even _my mother_ sees more action than I do."

"So join a dating site. I hear that's all the rage these days," she replies, snappishly.

* * *

He's pushing her again and she's quickly discovering that she prefers to lead this particular little dance they've been doing.

And just as if they are dancing, he changes direction before she has a chance to catch her breath or get her bearings back.

"Kate, I asked you a question earlier today and I'm still waiting for an answer. You felt it too, didn't you?" he asks, making her drop her head onto the mattress, face down, unable to reply.

"I can't do this now," she whispers hoarsely, after turning her head to the side to speak into the phone.

"Why, Kate? What's wrong with now?" asks Castle gently, trying his best to coax the truth out of her once and for all.

"I—I don't know. Maybe I'm scared."

Her admission is huge. His response is patient, tender and kind, his question quietly posed, no anger, non-judgmental.

"What are you afraid of?"

She doesn't reply.

Undeterred, he carries on for both their sakes, shouldering the burden as usual.

"Look, we can go one of two ways with this," he suggests, and she can tell that he knows she's listening intently to him from the calm, sensible, measured tone of his voice and the way he's speaking so directly to her, almost as if he's looking right at her. "I can hang up the phone right now and we can spend another night alone thinking about what might have been. And then tomorrow, I can show up at the precinct with a smile on my face and two cups of coffee in my hand, and act as if nothing has changed."

"What exactly has changed?" She wants to hear his take on things, since she doesn't exactly trust her own.

"After today? How we were together down in that basement…? And when you kissed me out in that alley, Kate? You still think nothing has changed?"

"You said one of two ways," she cuts in, unprepared to get into the nitty-gritty of how affected he obviously feels by what they went through today because it will force her to admit that she felt it too, and she's not sure she's ready for that.

She hears him sigh in frustration, but he answers her anyway.

"_Or..._we can keep talking until you're comfortable with the idea that…"

Castle pauses and Kate's heart almost stops when she hears a female voice - the voice of a woman she doesn't recognize - in the background of the call. A woman who must be standing in his bedroom right now, thinks Kate.

"I'm on the phone," she hears him tell the woman in muffled tones, as if he's just put his hand over the microphone. "Give me a minute. I'll be right out."

"Sounds like you have to go," she says bravely, though her insides feel as if they're being crushed. "I guess we're going with door number one."

"Kate, just give me a second to deal with—"

"Goodnight, Castle," she says calmly but firmly, trying to let him off the hook and get them both out of this painfully awkward back-and-forth they've ended up mired in. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

She hangs up the call and rolls over onto her back, closing her eyes against the tears that suddenly well up beneath her lashes and then leak out the sides to run down into her ears. She throws her phone across the mattress and clamps both hands over her face, trying to stifle the ache that's building in her chest; an ache she refuses to allow to grow into a sob.

She lies there for what seems like a really long time, staring up at the ceiling, chewing over all the things she might have said; all the chances he gave her to do this the easy way, the dignified way. She feels anguished, her mind full of what if's, disappointment and regret. She took the brave step of making the first move today, fumbled it and then backed off again without taking the opportunity to build on what she started. It's not as if Castle isn't interested, he almost said as much: all that talk of them being the only two people they know who are single and making no attempt to date anyone.

Her head hurts. She tries to blank her mind, to control her breathing the way Dr. Burke has shown her. Her eyes are just drifting closed, her fingers uncurling from the clenched fists she'd made, tears now dried on her cheeks, when she's suddenly startled awake by a knock on her front door.

She jerks upright for the second time that night, unsure at first where she is. Her damp hair is still wrapped in a towel, and she has nothing on but a short bathrobe and a tear-stained face. She's certainly not in the mood for visitors.

The knocking gets louder and more insistent, so she eases off the bed with a burst of muttered expletives, and then she quickly reties her robe, pulls the towel off her head and shakes her hair out on her way to answer the door.

When she yanks it open, his arm is out-stretched, fist raised, ready to knock again. He almost falls in on top of her with the speed at which she throws the door wide, knocking him off balance.

She stares at him, clutching the two sides of her robe tighter over her chest, watching while he takes a step back into the hallway and quickly attempts to recover his composure.

"I know you said we were going with door number one tonight. But I much prefer door number two," he says, indicating her own front door as a kind of visual aid.

"Castle, I live at number seven," she points out without irony, dragging her eyes away from where his fingers are touching the brass numeral in the center of the wood panel to meet his gaze.

"Potato, potahto," he shrugs, already moving past her into her apartment, a bag of takeout food carefully balanced in his other arm.

"Not if you're the postman," she argues faintly, automatically standing back to let him through, though she hasn't even said he can come in yet.

_TBC..._

* * *

_Have a lovely weekend everyone. __Love to hear your thoughts..._


	3. Chapter 3 - Preservation Ordinance

A/N: Aware I kept you hanging this weekend - things to do, people to see and all that. So here's the next update before we get down to the nitty-gritty.

* * *

**_Chapter 3 – Preservation Ordinance_**

_Previously..._

_When Kate yanks the front door open, Castle's arm is out-stretched, fist raised, ready to knock again. He almost falls in on top of her with the speed at which she throws the door wide, knocking him off balance._

_She stares at him, clutching the two sides of her robe tighter over her chest, watching while he takes a step back into the hallway and quickly attempts to recover his composure._

_"I know you said we were going with door number one tonight. But I much prefer door number two," he says, indicating her own front door as a kind of visual aid._

_"Castle, I live at number seven," she points out without irony, dragging her eyes away from where his fingers are touching the brass numeral in the center of the wood panel to meet his gaze._

_"Potato, potahto," he shrugs, already moving past her into her apartment, a bag of takeout food carefully balanced in his other arm._

_"Not if you're the postman," she argues faintly, automatically standing back to let him through, though she hasn't even said he can come in yet._

* * *

A light breeze caresses her face, a kind of wake, following the swift passage of her partner into her apartment.

"Please, won't you come in," Kate mutters sarcastically under her breath, as she closes the front door and then turns to find Castle heading straight for her kitchen like some heat-seeking missile.

She watches him from a safe distance as he magically produces a bottle of wine out of his coat pocket and deposits it, along with the bag of takeout food, onto her zinc-topped island. He immediately sets about tearing open the flimsy plastic bag.

"I was going to get Thai from that place you like over on Spring," he informs her, carefully unpacking various foil containers. "But the whole tiger thing put me off," he adds, dismissively waving a hand in the air. "So I went for Italian. I hope you don't mind?"

He has his back to her, broad shoulders still ensconced in his black wool pea coat, and he pauses before slowly turning around to look at her. "Wait—they don't have tigers in Italy, do they?"

Kate can't make out whether all this jabbering about food and tigers is a nervous tick or some kind of diversionary tactic, since he has basically invaded her home without any kind of invitation. There is a slim possibility that he is genuinely taking her through his thought process when he was deciding which kind of takeout food to get for them tonight. If it's shtick it's marginally entertaining shtick, and if it's nerves, she knows how he feels. So she gives him a temporary pass, deciding to let things unfold a little further before stopping him.

* * *

"Zoo," she says tiredly, speaking on the crest of a yawn while tugging her robe a little tighter around her.

"Sorry? What did you say?" asks Castle. He stops what he's doing to glance over at her, a little bow-wrapped bag of Cantuccini biscuits dangling from his left hand.

From the look on his face it's as if he sees her properly for the first time since he barged into her apartment, and, judging by his expression, it's as if he maybe likes what he sees, and then he catches _her_ catching _him_ liking what he sees and…

"You're not dressed."

Kate looks down at her bare feet and legs, at the terrycloth robe, and then back up at Castle's wide-open face. "Spot on Sherlock."

"Did you just say _zoo?_" he asks, looking at her quizzically.

"You asked about tigers…in Italy, remember? I'm pretty sure they have them at the zoo."

"Right, the zoo," murmurs Castle with a nod, before abruptly returning to food prep duty.

This leapfrogging conversation might be entertaining, but it is also seriously beside the point. Kate is still none the wiser as to whether her partner is nervous or really as zoned out as he appears. Either way, it's starting to grate on her - the way he just arrived unannounced and is now fully ensconced in her kitchen as if he belongs there.

Sometimes she wishes that it really could be that easy for them to slip into some kind of new life together - one where he fits as easily into her home as she would in his - without having to have some painful showdown of a conversation first. Part of her longs for that – the part that now knows she'd wind up dead inside if anything bad ever happened to him.

But the part that's still scared and suspicious, the Kate who heard that woman on the phone tonight and shutdown, she intervenes before this can go any further.

* * *

"Castle, what are you doing here?" she demands, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

"_Hmm?_" he hums distractedly, now opening each of her cabinets in search of plates, Kate assumes. "I brought dinner. Alexis is right. We really should celebrate every save, and since we didn't do it at the loft this time, I thought I'd bring the party to you."

She can't believe how oblivious he's being, (or how obtuse) how breezy and cool, as if they hadn't almost blown up earlier today after she kissed him and he pushed her away.

"You know why I didn't come to the loft tonight," replies Kate, coolly.

"Because _I_, like a thoughtless idiot, didn't invite you. Truth is, Ryan and Espo showing up like that when we were looking for a cab…kind of threw me. And since when does Ryan eat Lebanese food?" he asks, straying completely off topic again.

Kate's patience is beginning to wear thin in the face of Castle's determined mission to avoid what's right in front of them.

"Castle, that isn't the reason I didn't come up to the loft," she sighs, watching him drift over to switch her oven on so that he can begin warming the bowls he's just found. "And would you just _stop!_" she snaps, padding barefoot further into her own open-plan living space. The same living space Castle seems intent on taking over.

To his credit he recognizes the note of the irritation in her voice this time and does stop what he's doing.

"We were fighting. That's why there is _no way_ I would have gone up to your apartment with you. Whether you'd invited me or not."

"I wouldn't say fighting…exactly."

"Really? Then what would you call it?"

"We had a minor disagreement…a—a misunderstanding, in fact."

"A misunderstanding?"

"Yes. After you kissed me."

"_I _kissed _you_?" scoffs Kate.

He's right, that is exactly what happened. But it seems so out of character for her, now that the heat of the moment has passed, so she goes into full on denial mode.

"Yes, Beckett," replies Castle patiently, as if he expected her to attempt to rewrite history all along. "As God is my witness, that is how it went down. Surprised the hell out of me too, but there you are. Seems today was meant to be full of surprises."

He turns away to check on the oven temperature and Kate could scream. He's just pushing his way in again. It's as if they've been transported years back in time and she has no say over anything in her life anymore.

* * *

"Do you have a basket I can use for the garlic bread?" he asks, poking around her quirky kitchen while he waits for her to answer.

"Castle, what makes you think you can just barge your way in here and…and _charm me_ with food?"

"Uh…because it usually works? Well, assuming you're hungry of course," he says hesitantly. "You are hungry, right?"

"I thought I made myself clear on the phone."

She can tell from the stiffening line of his shoulders and the pause in activity that mention of their recent phone call is the trigger he needs to finally wise up and get real.

"No, you hung up on me before I could tell you about option two."

"So, what? You thought you'd just show up here…_uninvited_…and tell me all about your little option two in person? Is that it?"

"Something like that."

"Who was at the loft?" The question just flies right out of her mouth, propelled by the anger and frustration his behavior has been building in her since he stepped over her threshold five minutes ago, looking far too handsome and without so much as a 'please may I'.

"Who what?" he coughs and blinks.

"When we were on the phone—God, Castle, you know exactly what I mean. We were interrupted. There was a woman's voice in the background." In your bedroom, she thinks, but by some miracle manages not to say. "Who was that?"

He doesn't answer her question.

"Go put some clothes on. I don't want the baked ziti to dry out in the oven and we have antipasta to eat first."

Everything about what he's just said makes her want to scream. Go put some clothes on? Who the hell does he think he is? And why doesn't he appreciate her without clothes anyway. What's wrong with him, as Lanie asked?

"No. No way! I am _not_ moving from this spot until you tell me who you were talking to."

He carefully places the corkscrew he was using to open the glorious-looking bottle of red wine he brought with him back down on the counter, and then he turns to face her. "Don't trust me, Beckett, is that it?" he asks calmly.

Of course she trusts him. Doesn't she? The question stumps her. She thought she did, with her life and almost with her heart, while they've been circling real life in this holding pattern of late. But then tonight he stopped her from kissing him and then some woman shows up in his bedroom when they were just beginning to open up on their first personal phone call to one another.

"I'm—no. No, I was...curious." She stammers out the lie and then digs an even deeper hole. "We had just agreed neither of us were dating…_so_…"

* * *

Kate's cheeks flush as soon as she realizes exactly how much she's given away in the space of one short sentence – jealousy, longing, a wish to have him all to herself. She frowns and looks at the floor, awaiting a reaction of vintage Castle proportions; one that will mock _her_ and elevate _him_ to the level of ultimate sex symbol - Eligible Bachelor number nine.

But it never comes, not with the intensity she expects it to anyway.

"Go get changed. Dinner's ready," he repeats in a measured, almost fatherly tone, successfully hiding any satisfaction he might be feeling at Kate's unplanned revelation

Kate wavers for a second or two, shivering slightly. She hates being told what to do, even by Castle. Maybe _especially_ by Castle. Part of her wants to scream at him and then throw him back out into the hall with his baked bloody ziti and expensive selection of charcuterie. But the more rational part of her brain realizes that he's here with her now and not with whomever, and so that must count for something. Not to mention the food does smell amazing and she hasn't eaten properly for hours.

So she lets out a sigh that seems to pass right through her whole body, her shoulders dropping in its wake, and she turns without another word and heads for her bedroom to go and change.

She's halfway to the door when Castle speaks again, causing her to pause in her tracks.

"Oh, and Paula said to say hi. Seems Mattel want to bring out a range of collectibles based on the Heat series. She brought over a licensing contract for me to sign. Could be pretty lucrative."

Kate nods and gives him a weak, contrite smile, while she shrivels up inside. "Congratulations. That's...you must be really happy about that," she offers, by way of apology for her over-reaction, when all she really wants to do is hide her embarrassment in a deep, dark hole somewhere.

"Thanks. Appreciate that," he grins, looking quite pleased with himself.

"But if you think I'm modeling for some busty plastic doll, Castle, you can forget it," she tosses back at him a second or two later, in an effort to regain some dignity.

"Wouldn't dream of asking," he beams, delighted to see feisty Kate make a reappearance. "Now go put some clothes on before the food gets cold."

_TBC..._

* * *

_Happy Castle Monday. Love to hear your thoughts if you can spare a minute. Thank you for all the amusing and interesting reviews to the last chapter. They really made my weekend. _


	4. Chapter 4 - Fixer-Upper

_A/N: Thank you for your continued support and love for this story. On we go..._

* * *

_"Give a little love it'll all come back  
Throw a little out it'll make you glad, oh, oh."_

_**- Mostar Diving Club**, 'Give A Little Love'._

* * *

**_Chapter 4 – Fixer-Upper_**

'_What to wear? What to wear?' _

Kate stands in front of her closet with her hands on her hips, inwardly chanting these words to herself as she surveys the wide range of options. The pressure to choose something quickly and dress before Castle's baked pasta dish completely dries out in her ferocious oven is quite something. She flicks her eyes back and forth over hanger after hanger - from the seductive to the down right homely - and then she sighs, grabs a trusted pair of faded blue jeans from a high shelf and a slouchy, soft grey tee with a scoop neck and a curved hem.

Deciding on underwear is an even more difficult prospect than clothing for once. Her head is all over the place as to what she wants, hopes or thinks might happen tonight. In the end, she errs on the side of caution, selecting a smooth, white t-shirt bra and a pair of matching silky panties. Not too sexy, but not too shabby either.

In the end, she looks well put together, but not as if she tried too hard.

She goes into the bathroom and quickly checks her face out in the mirror. She has no make-up on after her shower, and she looks tied and pale under the bright lights. But then that's what she is – exhausted and pretty achy - after being shut beneath ground for hours, drugged and left without food or water. No point hiding the fact, since Castle was with her the entire day and must be feeling something similar.

'_Don't get up yet, stay in bed.' _

She blushes at the memory of her partner's murmured plea when he first woke beside her on that grubby mattress and how it had felt to hear him say those words to her. How _normal_ it felt to hear him ask her to stay in bed with him, as if waking side-by-side was a common occurrence for them. And when he rolled over and smiled at her, her name _'Kate', _falling warmly from his lips along with that lazy, sleepy smile... She had been as hooked as she was terrified by his easy assumption that that's who they were now – lovers sharing a bed together, instead of hostages chained to one another in some Godforsaken, damp basement.

She touches her fingers to her lips, strokes their pillowy-soft center and traces their familiar outline as she watches herself in the bathroom mirror. She kissed him today. She kissed him and he kissed her back until he couldn't anymore. A ripple of excitement passes through her, spreading outward from her chest like the widening, concentric circles on the surface of a pond in the wake of a falling pebble. The hairs on her arms rise up, the skin on the back of her neck prickles and her nipples tighten beneath the obscuring layer of her t-shirt bra.

She kissed him today, and maybe it didn't end so well, but he's here now and Dr. Burke would be proud of her for taking that step, because she felt it, all day she felt it, in the way they worked together, the way they moved together... They are a team, and if they never get to be anything more than that, she has never felt more in sync with anyone, and so she kissed him, and yeah…it felt really good.

* * *

A knock on the bedroom doorframe startles her out of her romantic reminiscence. She hears Castle cough loudly a couple of times and then clear his throat to announce his presence.

Her hair is more or less dry now, framing her face and falling around her shoulders in a series of loose waves. She quickly combs her fingers through it to tame it a little and then goes out into the bedroom to find out what Castle wants.

"Sorry to…eh…_interrupt_…" he says, his speech slowing to a crawl as he takes a good, long, distracted look around her bedroom.

"Can I help you with something?" asks Kate, crossing her arms over her chest, her head slightly tilted to one side as she watches him do a slow one-eighty sweep across the room, taking everything in. She has to engage in fierce combat with her facial muscles to prevent herself from smirking at him.

"Uh…yeah! Salad servers," he declares, with a sudden jerk of awareness, as if he has just realized where he is and what he's been caught doing.

"_Salad servers?_" repeats Kate with amusement, waiting until Castle drags his eyes away from her bed to look at her before she goes any further. "You came into my _bedroom_ to ask me about _salad servers?_"

"_Yeeeeaaah?_" he replies, a little uncertainly.

"I that some kind of sex thing I'm not aware of?"

Castle chokes on his own tongue, if the noises coming from his throat and the deep puce color of his face is anything to go by.

"_A sex thing?_" he repeats.

"Yeah. You're a father. I don't need to tell you have _that_ works…or do I?" she smirks, enjoying his discomfort for a change. An old joke he tried on her once in front of Lanie, and one she's happy to throw back at him tonight.

Now that she's dressed and feeling in control of her own environment again, she's getting her sass and her confidence back.

"Funny, Beckett. Very funny."

* * *

Castle looks around again, much slower and more fully this time, not even attempting to hide his interest in absorbing every tiny detail of her inner sanctum, since Kate doesn't seem to mind too much that he's there. Well, he assumes she doesn't mind since the threat of physical violence has yet to manifest itself.

"_So_…this is where the all magic happens," he nods sagely.

"I'm—_excuse me?_" blurts Kate, staring at him.

He gapes at her like a goldfish in a bowl, mouth opening and closing slowly, but no words come out. This last statement sounds so different, so much seedier, floating out there in the intimate calm of her bedroom, than it did when he previewed it inside his head.

"The clothes, your hair...I meant, obviously. You know, given how beautiful you always look," he quickly tries to explain, pointing towards her open closet.

Kate narrows her eyes. "Did you come into my bedroom looking for fashion tips or hoping to find me naked? Because if it's the former, Castle, I have to say I'm getting kind of worried."

Castle looks down at his feet and then back up at Kate. "Technically, I haven't crossed the threshold of your bedroom yet, since my feet are still out in the…uh…the hall. Would you like me to leave?"

"Ha! _Now_ he asks," laughs Kate, slipping her feet into a pair of leopard print flats and heading for the door.

She brushes past him, not enough space for both of them in the narrow doorway, so her bare arm skims his chest and her hip bumps his on the way past. The physical connection is stimulating, shocking even, catapulting her back several hours to earlier in the day, when there was no way they could escape touching one another, even if they had wanted to.

"Feed me and we'll talk," she says quietly, glancing back over her shoulder at him.

* * *

Castle has taken his coat off at some point while she was getting dressed, she notes. He's wearing a dark green plaid shirt with accents of red, white and yellow shot through it, over dark, navy jeans. These strong, forest colors really suit him, and Kate is forced to concede, to herself at least, that she might be scared as hell, but she's glad he's here with her tonight and not with some mystery woman she conjured up in her head.

"Castle? You comin'?" she asks, when he lingers in the doorway, his head still trained towards the inside of her bedroom, feet rooted to the spot.

"Huh?"

"Dinner? You…you were worried the food was going to get cold," she reminds him. "That's why I threw this on," she explains, plucking at the hem of her grey tee.

"Right. Dinner," he repeats, finally snapping out of his daze.

He catches up with her and then strides past her on his way to the kitchen – a man on a mission.

"You…uh…you look great by the way," he tells her, briefly glancing up from uncovering the two plates of bruschetta he's been keeping warm under some aluminum foil. "Go sit at the table. I'll bring this right over."

"Thanks," replies Kate, feeling a little bit redundant, almost as if she's a guest in her own home tonight. "You need me to pour the wine or…?"

"Already done. Glasses are over on the table. I—I made the call for both of us…opened the bottle of red I brought over. I hope you don't mind?"

"Italian food and red wine…dynamite combination. Can't beat it," she murmurs to herself, plucking one of the wine glasses from the table and swirling the ruby red liquid around the balloon shaped bowl with her fingers wrapped lightly around the slender stem.

She studies the label on the wine bottle in the middle of the table, inhales the rich aroma of the Argentinian Malbec – fruity and smooth – a blend of plum, raspberry and fig with an after-hint of spice. The man knows his wine, she concedes, taking a tentative sip and immediately falling under its spell.

Kate gently deposits the glass back down on the table and steps back to survey her partner's handiwork. Castle has been a busy boy while she was in the next room getting dressed. He has two place settings laid opposite one another - mats, napkins, cutlery – he even found her clear glass water jug and matching glasses. The mango wood salad bowl that she bought last summer from Williams-Sonoma, and has never had occasion to use, is filled to the brim with a mixture of lush green leaves, chunks of beef tomato, black olives and anchovies. The dish has been dressed with olive oil and scattered with grated Parmesan. Her matching salad servers are dug into the center of the simple salad, wooden handles propped against opposite sides of the bowl.

So much for Castle's assertion that he came to her bedroom to ask for those. She tucks this little nugget of information away for now, happy to torture him with it later.

* * *

"And here we go," he says warmly, startling her when he appears from behind with two plates balanced in one hand, waiting on her like a pro. "_Bruschetta al Pomodoro_," he announces with a flourish.

Kate smiles at him, she can't help it, and then she moves to take the nearest chair.

"So…_wow!_ You've really outdone yourself tonight, Castle," she congratulates him, raising her glass of wine and clinking it against his.

"Thank you," he shrugs self-depreciatingly. "As it's a celebration, I'd like to make a toast."

Kate feels a ripple of nervous anticipation pass through her.

He holds up his wine glass. "To my partner, Kate—"

Kate stops him before this can get any weirder. "Castle, we're the only two people here, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Yeah. And I want to make a toast. You have a problem with that?" he challenges, still holding his wine glass in midair.

Kate shakes her head. "No, I guess not," she admits, while quietly quaking inside.

He raises his glass a little higher and begins afresh. "_So_…to my partner, Kate…"

"Yes, I think we all got that part," mutters Kate stiffly, lifting her napkin and brusquely shaking it out into her lap to distract herself from Castle's worrying little speech.

She hates not being in control, not knowing what is coming next. And tonight, she's had no idea what was coming next from the very second he called her on the phone.

"If you're going to keep interrupting me…"

"The food will go cold," points out Kate, lifting her knife and fork.

"Then let me just say this. After that experience, if I ever have to be hitched to someone, it would be you," he tells her, with a nod of gratitude and clink of glasses.

"_Hitched?_" smirks Kate, head snapping up from her food to regard Castle with a look of devilment on her face.

"Hitched? No, I didn't say hitched. I said _cuffed…_handcuffed_. _Not hitched. The colloquial or any other connotation or meaning," he rattles out, clearly a little flustered.

Kate grins at his discomfort, like the tigress that got the heavy cream. "It's okay, Castle, I understood what you meant," she assures him. "And for what it's worth, if I ever have to spend another night handcuffed to someone again, I wouldn't mind if it was you either," she tells him genially.

"_Really?_" he asks, eyeing her skeptically.

"But next time, let's do it without the tiger," she adds, casually spearing a juicy chunk of tomato and bringing it to her lips.

Castle nods, smiles, places his wine glass down on the table and then lifts his own cutlery to begin eating.

Barely a beat passes before his head shoots back up…

"_Next time?"_

_TBC..._

* * *

_Ha ha! Last few lines were not mine, as I'm sure you spotted immediately. One lovely reviewer lamented the loss of them from this story, given I cut the last scene of 'Cuffed' to fit this setup, so I thought I'd add them back in right here. Love to hear your thoughts._


	5. Chapter 5 - A Solid Foundation

_A/N: Thank you for your reviews. They are much appreciated._

* * *

"_The very thought of you _

_Makes my heart sing _

_Like an April breeze_

_On the wings of spring _

_And you appear in all your splendor _

_My one and only love"_

_**- John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman:** 'My One and Only Love'_

* * *

_**Chapter 5 – A Solid Foundation**_

Previously...

_"Then let me just say this. After that experience, if I ever have to be hitched to someone, it would be you," he tells her, with a nod of gratitude and clink of glasses._

_"Hitched?" smirks Kate, head snapping up from her food to regard Castle with a look of devilment on her face._

_"Hitched? No, I didn't say hitched. I said cuffed…handcuffed. Not hitched. The colloquial or any other connotation or meaning," he rattles out, clearly a little flustered._

_Kate grins at his discomfort, like the tigress that got the heavy cream. "It's okay, Castle, I understood what you meant," she assures him. "And for what it's worth, if I ever have to spend another night handcuffed to someone again, I wouldn't mind if it was you either," she tells him genially._

_"Really?" he asks, eyeing her skeptically._

_"But next time, let's do it without the tiger," she adds, casually spearing a juicy chunk of tomato and bringing it to her lips._

_Castle nods, smiles, places his wine glass down on the table and then lifts his own cutlery to begin eating._

_Barely a beat passes before his head shoots back up…_

_"Next time?"_

* * *

Castle stares at Kate, a piece of Arugula dangling from the end of his fork, halfway to his open mouth.

"Did you just…?"

"Eh…you have a little—" says Kate, gesturing towards the side of Castle's mouth by touching her own.

He hasn't eaten so much as a bite yet, but has somehow managed to flick a little salad dressing onto his face. Classy, Rick. Real classy, he thinks, eyes widening further as Kate reaches across the table towards him and wipes the spot of oil away with the pad of her finger.

He's still trying to get his head around the suggestive inference in her last statement – that they'll be cuffed to one another at some point in the future - and he's pretty sure she meant for pleasurable purposes next time.

His whole body responds to her touch; from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes he shivers.

"Thanks," he murmurs, lifting his napkin from his lap to dab at the spot himself where Kate has just caressed him, in an attempt to tamp down the tiny electrical charges shooting back and forth through the nerve endings on that side of his face, like some crazy pinball machine.

He suddenly drops his fork with a clatter and reaches for Kate's hand, catching it before she can withdraw it back to her own side of the table. "Wow! How's your wrist?" he asks, gently turning her hand back and forth by the fingers to inspect the dark purple welts that have formed as a result of the cuffs constantly cutting into their wrists for hours, despite her best efforts to spare them both.

Kate meets his eyes and then glances back down at her hand – the one he's still holding – her fingers cradled in his. "Stings a little," she admits with a nod, before gently sliding her fingers out of his grasp and using her own napkin to wipe up the dressing she just removed from his face. "You?" she asks, looking over at Castle's wrist.

Her partner has his shirtsleeves rolled up to elbow height, exposing both tan, muscular forearms, now resting against the tabletop. His wrist bears similar marks to Kate's, and she has an urge to run her fingertip over the angry bruise, but has to settle for simply looking at it for now.

"Stung a little in the shower," he confides, unwittingly presenting Kate with a visual image that makes her heart thud just that little bit faster, especially since she mapped his entire body today when she literally crawled all over it.

* * *

"We're quite a pair," comments Castle, resuming his attempt to begin eating dinner. "Matching injection marks, matching—"

"_Bruises,_" grins Kate, glancing at him shyly, as she finally begins tucking into her own bruschetta.

Soft jazz is playing in the background, and Kate notices the music for the first time since she sat down. Castle must have found her iPod somewhere, plugged it into the speaker dock and selected her easy listening playlist. She sips her wine, lets the smooth, fruity, almost viscous liquid warm her insides, allowing the rise and fall of the music to lull her too, until she begins to feel about as relaxed as she has all day. She toys with a slice of black olive, hooking it with one tine of her fork and rolling it across the plate.

"Hey, maybe we should get matching tattoos," suggests Castle out of nowhere, halting Kate in her tracks.

The writer pauses momentarily, rethinking what he's just hastily suggested, before he jams a forkful of food into his mouth, chewing quietly without adding anything further. Kate can tell from the look on his face – slightly guilty, as if he's said too much – that he regretted making the suggestion more or less instantly.

"_So_…this tattoo," she picks up a minute or two later, sucking the slice of olive off the end of her fork. "What would it be?"

Castle glances at her to see if she's messing with him or not. "We talking theoretical here or…?"

"Guess that all depends on what you can come up with," Kate throws back at him, rising from the table with a smile on her face to begin clearing their appetizer dishes.

Castle gets up immediately and follows her into the kitchen area. He's quiet for once tonight, and by the look of concentration on his face he's thinking very hard.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight. I come up with a creative idea, one that you like, and _we…_" he says, waving his hand between the two of them, "you and me, can get matching tattoos? Is that what you're saying?"

Inwardly she's laughing to herself, imagining what he'd think if she finally described the tattoo she already has. Better still, the look on his face if she showed it to him.

"You're all out of ideas, aren't you?" smirks Kate, bending down to load the dishwasher.

Castle is standing behind her, leaning against the island, and when he doesn't reply to her little jab, she turns round to find out why he's gone silent all of a sudden. The answer is written all over his stupid, open face.

"Castle, were you—? You were just _staring at my ass!_" accuses Kate, barking out a laugh of surprise, before throwing a kitchen towel at her partner's less than innocent-looking face.

"Hey!" he laughs, catching the towel with both hands. "I needed a little inspiration," he shrugs, still grinning. "And you were _right there_ in front of me," he points out, feeling brave since Kate is still smiling too. "Anyway, you can hardly blame a guy," he says, twinkling, warm, mirthful eyes capturing hers and pinning her to the spot.

Kate lets out a long, low breath. All of a sudden, the sexual tension in her apartment is so real and so heavy that it's almost palpable. The connection between them is undeniable, the attraction indisputable, their devotion to one another seemingly incontrovertible after today. Kate feels as if she's on the edge of a precipice and the options are to run the other way, to jump and hope she can fly or to simply do nothing…just stand there and enjoy the view.

* * *

She's still engaged in enjoying the view, while she plucks up the courage to leap and fly, when the fan in her oven kicks in right next to her, and the sound snaps her out of her Castle-induced fantasy.

"The uh…the pasta. We should probably…" she says, a little awkwardly, sending a panicked glance towards the oven door.

Castle blows out a breath that is probably closer to a sigh of frustration, and then he stands up straight, pushing off the edge of the central island to come to her aid.

Kate frowns to herself as she plucks a pair of oven gloves off the hook on the wall and makes an unsteady attempt to force her shaking hands inside.

"Here, let me," suggests Castle, gently taking the oven gloves from her. He briefly places his hand on her bare shoulder, where her loose t-shirt has slipped off to one side, and he squeezes the taut muscles beneath his large, warm palm. "Why don't you top up the wine," he suggests, giving her a soft, reassuring smile.

Kate can still feel the warmth of his fingers burning into her skin seconds later, and she hates herself. She's so frustrated by her own cowardice at moments like these. Not that they often face moments like these, since she mostly runs and hides from anything that isn't a work interaction, ensuring they never end up in situations like this. If they eat a meal together it's usually in the break room at the precinct or in a busy diner during the day. This, tonight, is different, and the effort Castle has put in to make it a special celebration makes it closer to a date than most any other night they've spent together; since it's just the two of them in her apartment, drinking good wine, listening to jazz and…

"_Kate?_"

"Mmm?" she asks, snapping out of her guilt-ridden thoughts, her laundry list of all the ways she's being unfair to him. Unfair to both of them, actually.

"I've finished plating up. Do you want some fresh Parmesan grated over the top?" he asks, pointing to her bowl of baked ziti.

"Uh…yeah. Sure. That would be great," she manages to mumble, before heading over to the dining table to deal with the wine.

* * *

Her hands are still shaking as she tops off each of their glasses, that precipice still clearly visible in front of her.

"And here we have it," announces Castle, carefully placing the bowls of hot pasta down at each of their places.

Before he can move away to his side of the table and sit down, Kate grasps his wrist, thankfully finding herself nearest to the undamaged one, and she draws him to a standstill beside her.

"_Wha—_?" startles Castle in surprise, when she reaches up on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to his mouth, a kiss that lands half on his lips and half off to the side.

She pulls back slightly, sinks down onto her heels again, resting her forehead against his cheek for a second, before squeezing his wrist and letting go completely to go and sit down at her own place at the table.

Castle stands there for a couple of seconds longer, just staring down at her while she fiddles nervously with her napkin. He has his fingertips pressed to the spot by his mouth where she just kissed him.

"What was that for?" he asks eventually, sounding confused and maybe even a little hurt.

"For…for making tonight special, I guess. All the effort you've gone to," she explains, indicating the food laid out in front of them. "Does there have to be a reason?" she asks, feeling suddenly embarrassed by her own impulsive behavior and Castle's tentative reaction to it; always needing to talk about, analyze and explain everything.

"No, of course not," he assures her, quietly taking his place at the table. "I just—you surprised me, is all. But in a good way," he swiftly adds.

They both know that this is an out-and-out lie. Much as Castle might like for her to kiss him spontaneously, until today it has never happened. So, yes, there has to be a reason. Her partner is just too polite and too afraid of having her close down on him again to push the point at this moment in time.

Kate nods, and without saying another word, she gets tucked into her pasta dish.

* * *

The food is spectacular – tasty, rich, warming and comforting. If she needed the food equivalent of a hug after today, this plate of baked ziti is it – a big Italian hug in a bowl.

They drink their wine and chat about the music that's playing on her iPod when a slow, sensual John Coltrane piece called 'Naima' comes on, filling the living room with clever piano, mournful sax and the light swish of a brush on a snare drum. The next song is a more flirtatious blend of piano and saxophone, and Kate closes her eyes and nods along to the rhythm of the long musical intro that seems to fall in step with her own heartbeat.

"What about this one?" quizzes Castle. "Same album?"

"Uh…no," replies Kate, opening her eyes suddenly to find him watching her.

"_Well?_" he challenges, playfully kicking her foot beneath the table, since they've apparently stumbled onto a game of 'Name That Tune.'

Kate sighs, sits up straighter, and then she pushes her fingers through her hair. "It's called _'My One and Only Love'_," she tells him reluctantly, immediately standing to gather the dirty dishes. "From the album 'Coltrane For Lovers'."

She leaves the table before Castle can think what to say to that piece of information. Truth be told, he's still reeling from the sudden kiss she gave him before they sat down to eat. He's giving her some latitude to find her feet again, before he pushes her to talk about it any further. He feels as if they are on the cusp of something tonight and he's not prepared to let things slide, not this time.

* * *

Kate returns to the table and begins to top up their water glasses.

"Drink up. Don't want to end up dehydrated after today," she reminds him, carefully placing the heavy glass pitcher down on the coaster it's been resting on.

This time when she turns to head back to the kitchen, Castle catches her hand and tugs her to a stop.

"Kate?" he whispers softly, as the strains of yet another jazz standard weave their magic around them.

She turns towards him, and there's something of an inevitability in her posture and the tilt of her head when she addresses him. "What is it, Castle?"

"Come sit for a second," he asks, tugging on her wrist again to bring her even closer, easing his chair out from the table so that she can sit in his lap.

"No…please," she murmurs, shaking her head, a look of discomfort on her face.

"Kate, we have to get past this. We're being silly," he tells her, dropping his head to look at the floor when she pulls her hand out of his grasp and stalks off to the kitchen.

"You mean _I'm_ being silly," she groans, when he catches up with her. "It's okay. You can say it. I'm ashamed of my behavior too."

She's leaning against the sink, staring at the wall. Castle is standing a foot or so behind her.

"There's no need to feel ashamed," he says, almost automatically, since that's his role in their relationship – that of patient placator.

"_Really?_ How do you stand it?" Kate demands, her voice rising. "You said it yourself on the phone tonight. We're both single, Castle. We've been single for months and months. What are we waiting for? _Hmm?_ What else is out there for us if not—?"

She growls in frustration at her own inability to just spit out what she wants to say, and slaps her hand down on the edge of the sink.

Mere seconds later she feels the warmth of Castle at her back, trapping her against the cold porcelain of the large Belfast sink. The breadth of his chest presses into her shoulders, the weight when his hands land on her arms, the tingle in her scalp when her nudges his nose into her hair, she feels it all.

"I fed you dinner, Kate," he says quietly, reasonably, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. "Now why don't _you_ tell _me_ what's out there for us, if not each other?"

_TBC..._

* * *

_If you haven't heard Coltrane perform 'My One And Only Love' I suggest you listen to it on YouTube. It will warm your heart, I promise. Love to hear your thoughts. _


	6. Chapter 6 - Danger: Under Construction

_A/N: Thank you for your continued support. Seems there are quite a few Coltrane fans out there. These lyrics are for you..._

* * *

"_If I should write a book for you _

_That brought me fame and fortune too _

_That book would be like my heart and me _

_Dedicated to you."_

_**- John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman**__, 'Dedicated To You'._

* * *

**_Chapter 6 – Danger: Under Construction_**

_Previously..._

_"Kate, we have to get past this. We're being silly," he tells her, dropping his head to look at the floor when she pulls her hand out of his grasp and stalks off to the kitchen._

_"You mean I'm being silly," she groans, when he catches up with her. "It's okay. You can say it. I'm ashamed of my behavior too."_

_She's leaning against the sink, staring at the wall. Castle is standing a foot or so behind her._

_"There's no need to feel ashamed," he says, almost automatically, since that's his role in their relationship – that of patient placator._

_"Really? How do you stand it?" Kate demands, her voice rising. "You said it yourself on the phone tonight. We're both single, Castle. We've been single for months and months. What are we waiting for? Hmm? What else is out there for us if not—?"_

_She growls in frustration at her own inability to just spit out what she wants to say, and slaps her hand down on the edge of the sink._

_Mere seconds later she feels the warmth of Castle at her back, trapping her against the cold porcelain of the large Belfast sink. The breadth of his chest presses into her shoulders, the weight when his hands land on her arms, the tingle in her scalp when her nudges his nose into her hair, she feels it all._

_"I fed you dinner, Kate," he says quietly, reasonably, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. "Now why don't you tell me what's out there for us, if not each other?"_

* * *

Castle lets Kate go. He lets his hands skate lightly down her arms until they reach her elbows and then he lets go completely, quietly backing away from her, giving her the space he thinks she needs.

He stands still behind her for several seconds, letting silence and its sometimes magical properties do a little of the heavy lifting for once.

And for once, silence doesn't disappoint.

"Can we talk?" she asks solemnly, her head bowed over the sink, arms stretched wide as she holds herself up by leaning against the broad porcelain edge.

"I'm here, Kate. Ready when you are," he assures her, waiting and watching as she briefly turns to glance over her shoulder at him and then looks away again, off to one side this time.

"Did you bring dessert in that magic takeout bag of yours?" she asks, leaning into the sink and then pushing off to flip round and look at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I may have secreted some ice cream in your refrigerator when you weren't looking," he admits, looking over at the appliance.

"Flavor?" demands Kate, quirking one eyebrow.

"If you have to ask me what flavor I brought I might as well turn around and walk out of here right now," he replies, only half-joking.

"You brought the chocolate peanut butter?" Kate guesses, her lips curling into a tentative smile.

"_And?_" pushes Castle.

"Not the…"

"Mmm-hmm. Toasted coconut," he nods, face breaking into a smile when he sees her do the same.

"How did you—?"

"_What?_ Remember my muse's favorite ice cream flavors?"

Kate nods.

Castle's expression takes on a sincere, almost earnest look. "The only parts of you that I don't know, Kate, are the parts you've chosen to keep hidden."

Kate's cheeks flush when he says this, and she claws at her lip with her teeth, stuffing her hands into her jeans' pockets since she doesn't know what else to do with them. "And the rest of me is an open book?" she asks, raising her eyes to look at him.

"No, of course not. That's—no, not what I was saying at all."

"Then what _are_ you saying?"

"I'm saying that I think you're open with the few lucky people you trust. People you've maybe come to realize care about you."

"And you consider yourself one of those people?"

"I consider myself lucky to be in your life at all, Kate. That's how…how important you are to me."

"You're important to me too," she admits, scuffing the wooden floor with the toe of her shoe.

"And if you're ever in any doubt about my—" Castle stops speaking and drops his head.

"What? Say it. Please?" she pleads, needing him to guide them both through this mire of emotional entanglement, because she's been doing such an angry, rank-rotten job so far.

"If you ever doubt how much I care or how special I think you are, ponder this. How many women do you think get books written about them, or at least have characters based on them? And how many have dedications in those novels, made out to them for all the world to see?"

"I know that, I do," she sighs, twisting her fingers awkwardly together. "But…"

"If you can't see that I care about you, Kate, you might be the only one left how knows us both and still doesn't get it."

* * *

Her heart is hammering. Dr. Burke's calm words of advice and encouragement are ringing in her ears.

"Why am I having such a hard time with this?" she asks, her voice giving away her frustration with herself.

"You're asking _me?_" laughs Castle, unsure if her question is rhetorical or not. "Because to be honest I've been wondering the exact same thing."

Kate covers her face with her hands and mumbles from behind them. "God, I am just terrible at this."

Castle immediately comes over to stand right in front of her, and then he reaches for her hands and gently prizes her fingers away.

"Why do you put up with me?" she asks, looking up into his face, searching his eyes with about as much honesty as he's ever seen from her.

"Why do you put up with _me_?" he lobs right back, shrugging and raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, fair point," Kate laughs weakly, smacking him lightly on the chest, before letting her head drop forward. She tips into him so that her crown is resting against his breastbone.

Castle places one hand high and flat on the center of her back and rubs the other in soothing circles closer to the base of her spine, while Kate wraps her arms loosely around his waist.

"If you want to, Kate, we can figure this out. But if you're not ready or if you don't want this, then all you have to do is tell me."

The low rumble of Castle's voice vibrates through the top of her head sending tiny vibrations down her spine. She pulls away from him instantly, straightening up to look up at him sharply. "So much for open book," she snaps, fear and insecurity morphing into misplaced anger.

She's not being fair. Worse - she knows she's not being fair. She's expecting him to read what's been going on inside her head even when she herself is a mess of indecision a lot of the time. She pushes herself away from him with her hands on his body and then turns towards the refrigerator trying to force the warm, firm feel of him out of her mind.

* * *

"Bowls or spoons?" she asks with her back turned, opening the freezer compartment door and hauling out the two tubs of ice cream.

"Better make it both. Mood you're in, I don't fancy my chances if we share an open tub," he replies with typical dry humor.

Castle is trying so hard tonight, allowing her to behave like a frightened, neurotic mess. A mess that keeps throwing herself at him and then withdrawing as if she's been burned.

"Bowls are on the—"

"Top shelf. Yeah, I got it," replies Castle, already stretching to lift down two pale green, crackle-glazed dishes.

Kate shakes her head, but doesn't comment. She wonders how much poking around her apartment he actually managed to do while she was in the bedroom getting changed.

"Single scoop, double scoop, one flavor or— _Ouch!_" yelps Castle, when Kate raps the back of his knuckles with the stainless steel ice cream scoop and hip checks him out of the way.

"I think I can manage to put some ice cream in a bowl," she tells him, giving him a withering look.

The talking they've been doing so far - this awkward, stilted, fractured discussion, always teetering on the edge of serious, terrifying honesty – it has unnerved her. She needs to feel more in control again if they are to have a hope of taking the conversation any further, so she reasons that reclaiming her own kitchen might be a good first step.

"Is there any wine left?" she asks Castle, hoping to send him away to top up their glasses so that she can get a few seconds breathing space just to calm herself down and regroup a little.

"I think we already drained the bottle."

"_Oh,_" murmurs Kate, scraping the ice cream tool over the surface of the tub again and again until it forms into a nice curl and then a recognizable snowball.

"But I did bring a cheeky little bottle of Vin Santo with me," he tells her, with a low, secretive sing-song to his voice.

Kate laughs and gives him a quick sideways glance. "Just how deep are your pockets?" she asks, with an amused frown.

"Are you asking for my financials, Detective?" teases Castle.

"Pfff," scoffs Kate, shaking her head. "As if. No, I just don't know how you managed to smuggle all this stuff in here tonight."

"Where there's a will—"

"There's a pea coat with extra deep pockets," laughs Kate.

Finally there's enough ice cream in the bowls for both of them and no further reason to dally in the kitchen.

"Take these," says Castle, handing Kate two dainty glasses of dessert wine. "I'll bring the bowls and spoons."

Kate flashes back to their endeavors today to get themselves out of the trap they'd landed up in; how they'd cooperated at every turn to stay alive, working as a team to look for a way out. They make an amazing team when she gets out of her own way.

* * *

Her ruminating abruptly halts when they enter the open living area and the choices become – settle down on the sofa or stick with the more formal setting of the dining table.

"I—you choose," shrugs Kate, leaving the decision up to Castle.

"Where will you be more comfortable?" he asks, putting her needs before his own as usual.

"Castle, I'm not sure there's really any comfortable place to be doing this," she admits, with complete honesty. An honesty that pains him.

"Sofa it is then," he says, trying to keep his spirits up and not feel hurt by her reluctance to open up and embrace this opportunity, not to feel discouraged by her continued reserve.

Kate trails him to her grey sofa and settles a respectable distance away from him. They place their drinks and ice cream on the coffee table and pause for just a second.

"What am I to you?" Castle asks suddenly, tilting his head to look at her.

Kate leans forward to reach for her bowl. "Ice cream's gonna melt," she says quietly, avoiding answering his question.

"Is it really that hard to—"

"Castle, we _work_ together," she throws out there, cutting across him.

"_What?_ Kate, that is a _BS excuse _and you know it," he fires back immediately, letting his spoon clatter against the side of the bowl.

"Sorry," murmurs Kate, contritely, because she knows he's right.

"Why is this so hard for you?"

"What?"

"You _know_ what. Kate you send out mixed signals all the time. Some days you look at me and—God, I could swear you feel the same. Other times, like now for instance, it's as if you'd rather talk about the goddam weather than confront reality."

"And just what is that reality, _Rick?_" she challenges, fire flashing in her eyes now that he's getting so close to cornering her, guilt seeping out of her very pores.

"No," he replies, shaking his head. "No, I am _not_ going to talk you round or persuade you into this, Kate. You have to want it too. You just said we work together. Well, if you think that's a genuine obstacle, I can terminate that arrangement as easily as it began. Just say the word."

"Finally had enough?" she snaps, failing to hide her fear, when it rises to the surface at the thought of losing her partner.

"Don't insult me. I'd sacrifice being your partner, much as I love working with you and don't want to think about anyone taking my place. But I'd do it in a heartbeat if it meant a chance to have this instead."

"This?"

"Time on our own away from work. A shot at a relationship instead of—"

He shrugs and runs a hand through his hair, admitting with a sigh and a rough edge to his voice, "I don't know what we are anymore."

Kate looks down at her bowl of melting ice cream and she paws at the chocolate and creamy colored mush with her spoon. "Neither do I," she admits quietly, her voice and demeanor finally softening with the slump of her shoulders, thought she sounds far sadder than Castle would like.

"So then let's figure it out. I'm not the enemy here, Kate."

"I know," she insists, looking at him in panic, hoping that isn't how he believes she thinks of him.

"Then stop fighting me and work with me to figure out a way we can both get what we want. But first, _eat_," he tells her, gesturing to their desserts.

* * *

Their spoons clink against china and Coltrane transitions seamlessly into Miles Davis, the familiar strains of _'So What'_ mocking Castle in his current, restless, anxious state of mind.

"I used to believe that loving someone was enough."

Kate is the one who confides this, her voice calm and strong, though her gaze is directed towards the floor. Castle freezes, a cold blob of ice cream sliding down his throat. He sets his near empty bowl and spoon aside and lifts the two glasses of Vin Santo off the table, offering one to Kate in exchange for her empty bowl.

He sits back against the sofa cushions, leaning into their comfortable softness and then he crosses one leg over the other, resting his ankle over his knee.

"But you don't anymore?" he prompts, hoping she will elaborate on this unexpected conversation starter.

Castle waits patiently, watching Kate stare into the glass of fragrant, sweet, amber-colored dessert wine as if she doesn't know what to do with it.

She doesn't look up from her glass when she answers him. "I think it takes a lot more than love to sustain a relationship."

They might be talking around the core issue, but it's a start. Castle attempts to build on the foundation Kate has just laid for him.

"I agree. Certainly couldn't argue with that."

Kate looks at him abruptly, her interest drawn by the uncharacteristic bitterness in his voice. A bitterness left there by his previous experiences with ex-wives and other women, she supposes. She wonders if she's adding to that bitterness with her own frustrating, unfathomable behavior.

"I value what we have. Against so many different odds, we've managed to build a strong friendship, Castle, a trust that—"

She breaks off, running her fingertip around the rim of the glass before taking a quick sip. "I can't lose that. I don't want to lose that," she stresses, hazarding another glance at his face; a face so kindly and intense that it breaks her heart not to be able to give in to him here and now.

"_So_…you'd rather keep things as they are? Maybe look at what else is out there for you relationship wise rather than take a chance on finding something special...right here?" he asks, gesturing between the two of them, trying to sound reasonable and measured when inside his heart feels as heavy and cold as a stone. "Is that it? Have I got that right?"

* * *

Kate leans forward, dropping her forehead onto her hand. Before she can summons words to answer him, Castle is speaking again and his voice rises, as if in anger.

"Were you even _in_ that room with me today? Because I could have sworn you were, Kate. There was this sexy, kickass, female detective who sure looked a lot like you. And you know what? _That woman_…she wasn't scared to take a risk."

Kate's head jerks up, a shocked look on her face, never having seen Castle speak to her this way before.

"I'm not going to pretend anymore that I don't see the effect I have on you, Kate. And the feeling's mutual, in case you were wondering. Call me arrogant, call me conceited, hey, call me a _liar_ if you want. I don't care. Because I know what I feel and I know what I see...what there is between us."

Kate looks away. "You think you're so smart," she mutters, downing another mouthful of sweet wine.

"Don't need to be a brain surgeon…or a cardiac surgeon for that matter," he adds, regretting the sarcastic jab at Josh as soon as it's out of his mouth. "It's there in your eyes, Kate, when you think I can't see you watching me. You need to stop kidding yourself that this connection we have means nothing. Remember that day at the bank, after the bomb went off? You were terrified. Your voice…Kate, you assumed the worst. You were terrified and I'm pretty sure I know why. You feel it too."

* * *

When Kate slaps him, the sound is as startling as the effect it has on both of them.

"Please, just _stop talking_," she pleads, burying her face in her hands.

Castle quietly puts his glass down and stands.

"I think we've both had a really long, stressful day. So, I'm gonna go now, before either of us says or does something there'll be no coming back from."

Kate sits rooted to the spot, the palm of her hand still tingling from when it connected with Castle's cheek. She's in turmoil, only vaguely aware of the writer collecting his coat from the back of a chair, shrugging it on as he walks to the door, leaving only leftovers, a half-drained glass and an open bottle of dessert wine in his wake.

That, and his devastated partner.

_TBC..._

* * *

_Oh dear! Promise to fix it soon. Hope I didn't ruin anyone's weekend. :)_


	7. Chapter 7 - Shoring Up

_A/N: So, the last chapter was a little divisive for some. Not an unexpected response. I've included the last few paragraphs to reset the scene as we move on with the story._

_As an aside, a friend recently recommended the music of two young sisters, called Lily & Madeleine, to me. By sheer chance they were performing in my city last night, all the way from Indianapolis, and they were equally as impressive in person. Their music is lovely, quite haunting, and their vocal harmonies are so beautiful in the way that maybe only two people who know each other so well could achieve. _

_I've chosen the chorus of one of their songs to head this chapter, since the words represent where Kate is at this point in the story so well. If you get a chance, I'd urge you to YouTube their song 'Sounds Like Somewhere'. It's gorgeous._

* * *

"_Someday I'll find the right words_

_and I'll bloom where I was planted long ago_

_Until then, I'll be waiting_

_Hoping, to one day let go"_

_**- Lily & Madeleine**__, 'Sounds Like Somewhere'_

* * *

**_Chapter 7 – Shoring Up_**

_Previously..._

_"Were you even in that room with me today? Because I could have sworn you were, Kate. There was this sexy, kickass, female detective who sure looked a lot like you. And you know what? That woman…she wasn't scared to take a risk."_

_Kate's head jerks up, a shocked look on her face, never having seen Castle speak to her this way before._

_"I'm not going to pretend anymore that I don't see the effect I have on you, Kate. And the feeling's mutual, in case you were wondering. Call me arrogant, call me conceited, hey, call me a liar if you want. I don't care. Because I know what I feel and I know what I see...what there is between us."_

_Kate looks away. "You think you're so smart," she mutters, downing another mouthful of sweet wine._

_"Don't need to be a brain surgeon…or a cardiac surgeon for that matter," he adds, regretting the sarcastic jab at Josh as soon as it's out of his mouth. "It's there in your eyes, Kate, when you think I can't see you watching me. You need to stop kidding yourself that this connection we have means nothing. Remember that day at the bank, after the bomb went off? You were terrified. Your voice…Kate, you assumed the worst. You were terrified and I'm pretty sure I know why. You feel it too."_

_When Kate slaps him, the sound is as startling as the effect it has on both of them._

_"Please, just stop talking," she pleads, burying her face in her hands._

_Castle quietly puts his glass down and stands._

_"I think we've both had a really long, stressful day. So, I'm gonna go now, before either of us says or does something there'll be no coming back from."_

_Kate sits rooted to the spot, the palm of her hand still tingling from when it connected with Castle's cheek. She's in turmoil, only vaguely aware of the writer collecting his coat from the back of a chair, shrugging it on as he walks to the door, leaving only leftovers, a half-drained glass and an open bottle of dessert wine in his wake._

_That, and his devastated partner._

* * *

"_Wait!_ You're right. I feel it too."

The words fly earnestly out of her mouth before she can stop them or even figure out the consequences of saying them.

But the front door closes soundly just a heartbeat or two later, and she sags, huffing out a heavy, shaky breath, her chest caving in on itself now that her effort is spent. Too late even with this honest revelation. Just great.

She rubs her hands down over her face and then reaches for her glass, planning to drain the remainder of the strong, sweet wine and then quite possibly empty Castle' glass too, maybe even the whole bottle, since she could do with finding oblivion tonight. Because she led him on and then she pushed him away again and finally, she lost it completely in amongst the push and pull, and she slapped him.

And why? Because he got a little too free with the truth? Because he crossed that carefully patrolled, electrified, razor wire topped, long ago constructed, invisible line they never breach? Because he fought to do for both of them what she has so far been incapable of doing? Worse than useless, verging on selfish, torturous humiliation the treatment she's been doling out to this kind and generous man who she already knows is in love with her.

She hasn't even brought the glass to her lips when she hears the unmistakable sound of shoe leather pivoting roughly against wooden floorboards, and she freezes.

"Tell me more."

His voice is a little cold, flat and demanding, but the note of curiosity that's keeping him here is all she needs to hear to allow her to imagine second chances and know this needs to be made right, _by her_, before another day, another hour or even another second can slip by.

"What do you want to know?" she asks, looking up to find Castle hovering in her entryway with his coat on, hands jammed into those deep pockets she joked about not half an hour ago.

"Everything."

"Are you sure because—"

"Beckett, I want to know _everything_," he repeats, still swaying on the same spot, his brow creased into a tense frown, his eyes clouded by equal measures of hope and pain.

"Then…you'd better take your coat off. I'll make us some coffee," she says, rising to go into the kitchen.

* * *

Together they collect the dirty glasses and sticky ice cream bowls from the coffee table, opting to drain the remaining alcohol down the sink so that clearer heads might prevail from now on.

Castle leaves her alone in the kitchen while she puts a new filter into the coffee machine, scoops fragrant grounds into the basket, fills the glass jug with water, tipping it into the reservoir with a shaking hand, before flipping the switch to turn it on to brew.

The hot plate hisses as drips from the bottom of the glass carafe sizzle and evaporate. She takes this time alone, leaning against the sink again, to center herself. She can't see him right now, but she senses that Castle is sitting on the sofa waiting for her, since she can't hear him pacing or moving about.

She has no idea how long she stands there lost in a daze, her head filled with regret and that uneasy feeling of having done something terribly wrong or foolish that sometimes - though rarely and not for years - has accompanied too much strong alcohol on top of too little sleep or too little food in the past.

This feeling that she's feeling right now is one she thought she'd left behind during her wild days with Royce. The fights they'd have, the late nights that only broke when the sun rose on exhausted, aching limbs, that brief crazy period of infatuation and stormy, combative sex that got rougher the longer they were together, instead of calmer, more skillful and more tender.

She should have seen the signs. _She_ loved him, but _he_ only cared about her. That combination never works for long if the guy is halfway decent. He let her down as gently as he could in the end, but not without some kicking and screaming on her part. But she was young then, grieving and in need of love. What excuse can she use now? She doesn't really have one; not where Richard Castle is concerned.

Time to come clean.

* * *

The coffee machine's alarm finally sounds, and she's fetching creamer from the refrigerator and then attempting to spoon sugar into his mug when Castle quietly appears behind her. She flits her eyes sideways to locate him while she tries to steady her trembling hand, the one in control of the teaspoon that's currently dusting her countertop with granulated sugar.

Castle reaches round her, clasps his fingers over hers and then gently takes the spoon from her.

She hit him - this gentle giant of a man. She struck him for speaking the truth. Slapped that handsome face that she should be cradling, kissing, touching with tenderness. Shame floods through her, leaving her pale, weak and queasy with guilt. Tears bead her lashes, obscuring her vision.

"I've got it. You can let go," he tells her, easing the half-empty spoon out of her grip. "Did any of this make it into the cup?" he asks, indicating what remains of the sugar coating the damp bowl of the silver spoon.

"Eh…some, I think. Maybe half," she shrugs, absently adding creamer to her own coffee and then secreting it back in the frig.

Castle wipes the surface down, puts the sugar away and then carries both mugs through into her living area.

Kate follows him like a rudderless tender being towed along behind a yacht.

_Whether thou goest…_

* * *

They sit down on the sofa again in the same spots they occupied not fifteen minutes ago, preparing for an awkward do-over.

Kate notices Castle's pea coat lying tossed over the arm of the sofa. His cell phone is sitting out on the coffee table, and she briefly wonders why he's left it there; whether he's waiting on a call or maybe made one, and if so, to whom. But before either of them can speak or she can attempt to apologize or explain, his phone begins to ring.

Kate stares at the screen in the second or two it takes Castle to find a coaster to place his mug down on top of and then lift the phone to answer the call. The screen image is a photo of Alexis. His daughter is the one who's calling. Kate's shame deepens. She struck the girl's father.

She stands with her own mug in hand and turns away, intending to return to the kitchen to give him some privacy. But he reaches out and captures her wrist, shaking his head when she looks down at him and then he signals for her to sit. She sinks back down slowly, obliging him because she'd probably give him anything he asked for right now, so deep and consuming is her guilt.

She turns her head in the opposite direction, angles her knees away from him, staring at a painting on the far wall while he answers the call, wishing he _had_ let her go.

"Hey, pumpkin. You got my message?"

Kate tries not to listen, but it's hard not to when Castle is sitting only a couple of feet away from her.

"I'm still with Detective Beckett, yes," he tells his daughter, glancing at Kate, though she can't see him looking over, only hears the rustle when the skin of his neck whispers against the fine cotton fabric of his shirt collar. "She did enjoy the pasta, thank you. It was a great idea. You're quite right. We should celebrate every save. We'll be sure to make the party at the loft next time, don't worry. Beckett even said she missed your gram's cooking," he tells his daughter, laughing easily with her when Kate hears Alexis scoff on the other end of the line at her father's absurd remark.

The only thing more colorful than Martha Rodger's dress sense is her cooking, or at least the combinations of ingredients, spices and seasonings she thinks should be mingled together to make a great dish.

The girl asks Castle a question or tells him something, because there's a pause in the conversation while he listens to her talking. Kate sips at her coffee, letting the heat of the liquid warm her ice-cold hands. She wishes she'd put wooly socks on instead of ballet flats over her bare feet. But when she dressed she was hoping to impress. Now she's hoping to save the one thing she never wanted to risk in the first place, and socks don't seem like such a bad idea. They might even soften her brittle, tarnished image.

"I—I'm not sure yet," she hears Castle say, and her fingers tighten around the mug. "That's why I wanted to wish you luck for tomorrow…just in case. You are _totally_ ready, oh brilliant daughter of mine," he says, and Kate cringes when she hears him forcing bright enthusiasm into his voice for his daughter's sake. "Bonne nuit, mon petit chou."

She can't stand to listen anymore, so she deposits her mug on the table and heads off towards the bedroom, aware that Castle is probably staring after her with a concerned look on his face.

She closes the door part way over and then sinks down onto her bed. She leans forward, resting her forehead on the heels of her hands for a few moments and then she takes one deep breath in, pushes her hair off her face and stands again.

* * *

Castle is sitting with his back pressed against the sofa cushions drinking his coffee when she comes back out of the bedroom wearing a pair of thick, baby blue cashmere socks.

He raises his eyebrows and gives her a half-smile.

"Cold feet," she explains, pointing to her socks. Inwardly she cringes at her uncomfortably apt choice of words, given the circumstances.

"Can't have that," replies Castle, lifting her mug up off the table along with his own, before standing. "Top up?"

"_Eh_…sure. Yeah. Why not. You know where everything is," she says redundantly, because they both know that he does. She isn't going to sleep tonight anyway, so more coffee isn't going to hurt.

Kate curls up on one end of the sofa, her feet tucked beneath her, while she waits for Castle to return. He reappears all too soon, handing her a fresh, steaming mug of coffee, creamer added just the way she likes it.

"Alexis okay? I hope I'm not keeping you from anything. Because if you need to go home this can—"

"No, Kate. This can't wait. Let me be clear about that," he says, with a resolute clarity and a firmness that bizarrely both terrifies and turns her on.

"_Okay_," she replies slowly, sipping her coffee, though it's still so hot it burns her mouth. The punishment feels fitting and good.

"Alexis has a French exam tomorrow. That was…" he shrugs. "Anyway, she's more than ready. She speaks the language better than most of her teachers."

"I'm sure," agrees Kate. "She's a bright girl."

"Anyway, you don't want to be making polite small talk about my daughter," he remarks a little formally, a gentle indirect nudge for her to get on with it.

"Right, of course. We need to talk and…" She bites her lip, looks down into the swirling surface of her coffee and then up into the startling blue of Castle's eyes.

She fidgets for a second, long fingers plucking at a loose thread on the hem of her tee. She swallows again before speaking, the glottal sound so loud in her ears she's surprised Castle doesn't jump.

* * *

"Please let me start with an apology? I should _never_ have struck you, Castle. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Castle." She shakes her head, her expression grave, almost grief-stricken. "I don't know what came over me, but whatever it was is unforgivable."

"Apology accepted," he replies without hesitation, nodding with equal gravity.

"Thank you. Really. _So_…what would you like to know? Ask me anything. I'm…I'm not much good at this, as you can probably tell, but I'll do my best to answer truthfully."

She's trying to salvage their friendship at the very least, and figures that offering him the chance to question her might do them both a favor, since he gets to ask the questions he wants answers to and in the process, he will draw her out, force her to confront her fears and examine her motivations.

"Anything? I—I can honestly ask you anything?"

He seems genuinely taken aback by her offer, even after everything she has to make up for.

Kate nods, curling her legs under her more tightly. "Please. It's the least I can do after—"

"That's done, Kate. Let's move on," he tells her, crisply.

"Thank you. Your forgiveness is more than I probably deserve. But thank you."

"When I was leaving just now…"

Kate nods, understanding exactly what he's asking. "You want to know what I meant?"

"Please."

"You asked me a couple of times since we got out today whether or not I…I felt this thing between us. This connection or attraction…I don't know what you'd call it but…"

She grabs a throw pillow off the sofa and plants it in her lap, hugging it to her body protectively. "I didn't want to answer you earlier because talking about it means doing something about it and—"

"You're not ready," Castle finishes for her, sounding disappointed, but resigned.

Kate brusquely looks up at him.

"_No_, I was going to say that I know we have to acknowledge what there is between us, but I've been holding back from doing that because..._I'm scared_, Castle."

He looks concerned, but maybe also a little relieved by her explanation.

"You said that on the phone. But you didn't explain why. What are you so afraid of? _Me?_ Because I'm pretty sure you can look after yourself," he adds, with more humor than she expects or wants to hear.

Kate drops her head in shame, recalling the slap, and then she forces herself to look at him.

"No, Rick, I'm scared of _me._"

* * *

Silence follows this pronouncement.

"_You?_ Why?"

"After tonight, you even have to ask? I'm not a very nice person. I'm not even a very honest person sometimes. I'm hopeless at sharing my feelings, I'm closed off and guarded and—"

"And do you really think I don't know all of that by now? _Really_, Kate? After all the time we've spent together?"

Kate blinks at him.

"And yet you're still here. Even after I assaulted you."

"I pushed. Maybe I deserved it," he shrugs, trying to make light and get past her guilt, lest it cloud the real issue further. "You made it clear you were uncomfortable talking about…_things_. It has been a stressful day all things considered."

"No. No, please don't let me off the hook this time. For this to work, for us to get anywhere, we have to talk honestly and I need you to push me, Castle. You weren't being arrogant or—or even conceited when you said you have an effect on me. I would be a liar, and a pretty hopeless one, if I tried to deny that. You—you just get to me in a way that no man ever has. And I mean _ever._"

Castle stares at her, eyes wide and unblinking. "Can I ask if that's good or bad?"

Kate laughs hollowly. "Sometimes…yeah, a little of both. You frustrate me with your childish behavior and then the very next minute you utterly surprise me with your insight or your kindness or your patience."

"Sounds like a pretty solid basis for a partnership so far," he admits, sounding slightly disappointed that maybe that's all it will ever be.

"Come on, you know that's not all there is to it," challenges Kate this time, looking straight at him.

"Then tell me, Kate," he begs, edging closer to her along the sofa.

"I am _deeply_ attracted to you," she confesses, squeezing the cushion in her lap, her heart pounding, her whole body flooding with heat. "And I'm pretty sure you feel the same."

"Is that a problem for you?"

"No," she shakes her head. "But it does terrify me at times."

"Please explain, because the way I feel about you…this is not just a passing attraction, Kate. You're not some meaningless conquest, believe me. If you were, I'd have moved on long before now. I've grown up just being around you. And I don't want to scare you even more, but…I care _deeply_ for you."

Kate reaches out and skims the back of his hand with her fingers where it rests on the sofa cushion between them, acting like some kind of bridge.

"I know. I know you do. But what if that isn't enough? What if we give in to this attraction and we ruin everything? Like I said before, I don't want to lose the friendship we've got, Castle."

"Kate, you're not hearing me. I'm talking _way _more than attraction here. I'm _so far_ over the line—_So_ invested in this…"

He breaks off before he gives the game away and uses the word _love_ and has her running for the door as a result. He doesn't think she's quite ready to hear that...not today at least.

* * *

Kate strokes her hand back and forth over his knuckles, and he can feel her resistance weakening slightly the longer she lingers to touch him.

"You don't think it's a risk worth taking?" he presses. "You don't think all the people out there who meet through work, who fall for one another in offices and factories all over the country might be thinking the same thing? I could lose my job, my lunch buddy, my best friend over this?"

"We're _not_ other people, Castle, and you're _not_ just some guy I grab a sandwich with and talk sports over lunch."

Castle laughs self-depreciatingly. "I'm not _even_ that guy."

"You know what I mean. If we do this, what are the guarantees that it won't fail a month or two down the line? What if you get tired of me or don't like what you find when I let my guard down all the way?"

"Kate, I'd settle for you letting your guard down even halfway. And those are two of the remotest possibilities I've ever heard. _But—but_," he says, holding his hand up to stop Kate from interrupting. "I have just one question for you. Have you _ever_ felt as strong a connection to anyone before and fought it? Not thrown yourself at it, just let it burn slowly, develop, simmer and grow?"

Her answer is swift, sure-footed and unequivocal. She shakes her head. "No. Never."

"And why do you think that is?" he asks patiently, coaching her through this until they reach some kind of logical, natural, conclusion, since that's what her cautious-in-love, left-brain leaning psychology seems to need right at this moment.

"Because…because you're too important to me. I feel stuck, Castle. If I let things stand as they are for much longer I know…" she sighs, running a hand through her hair. "I know that I'll lose you, and that would only be my fault. But if I tell you how I feel and we try…"

She pauses, taking a moment to look at him.

"Go on."

"If we fail and it blows up in our faces…I couldn't handle not seeing you anymore, not having you in my life." Her voice is faint when she finally manages to articulate her greatest fear.

"Then I think we have our answer. Is there anyone else, _anyone at all_, Kate, that is maybe standing in the way of us trying here?"

"_What? No!_" Kate shakes her head vehemently. "It's you, Castle. It's always been you," she whispers, her voice hoarse, eyes suddenly swimming with tears.

"Hey, hey, there," he soothes, scooting closer still, until they are sitting right next to one another and he can reach out and dry the tears from her cheeks with his handkerchief.

* * *

He lays a hand on her shoulder, rubs the tensed up muscles he finds there, and it's awkward and tentative, slightly clumsy even, since this transition from who they were when they left home this morning to who they are now, after the tiger, has been driven forward by such an unexpected catalyst.

Kate lays her hand over the top of Castle's and tilts her head to the side so that her cheek is resting on top of their interlinked hands. She watches his face as he watches her too; her view distorted at this strange angle that nonetheless seems apt, since they are in the process of tipping their private world on its axis.

"So…what happens now?" asks Kate, giving his hand a squeeze and then squirming closer to him on the sofa, so that she might lay her head against _his_ shoulder.

Castle slips his arm around her and rests his own cheek against the crown of her head. She feels warm and safe and loved like no other time she can remember.

"Whatever we want to happen. We can take things slowly, Kate. There's no rush to do anything you're uncomfortable with. In fact, it's been such a long, exhausting day it might be best if I go now. Let the dust settle."

Kate tenses before she speaks, her relaxing muscles coiling tight once more. "Is that what _you_ want?"

Castle can tell from the strain in her voice that this isn't what she really wants to happen next.

"I want whatever _you_ want," he assures her. "Whatever will make us both happy and secure."

"Then please...stay with me tonight?"

_TBC..._

* * *

_Love to hear your thoughts. _


	8. Chapter 8 - A Lick Of Paint

A/N: Happy Valentine's Weekend, Castle lovers.

I've chosen this song for reasons that will become apparent once you watch ep. 6x15 'Smells Like Teen Spirit.' ;)

* * *

"_Those fingers in my hair_

_That sly come-hither stare_

_That strips my conscience bare_

_It's witchcraft_

_And I've got no defense for it_

_The heat is too intense for it_

_What good would common sense for it do?"_

_**- Frank Sinatra**__, 'Witchcraft'_

* * *

**_Chapter 8 – A Lick of Paint_**

_Previously..._

_Kate lays her hand over the top of Castle's and tilts her head to the side so that her cheek is resting on top of their interlinked hands. She watches his face as he watches her too; her view distorted at this strange angle that nonetheless seems apt, since they are in the process of tipping their private world on its axis._

_"So…what happens now?" asks Kate, giving his hand a squeeze and then squirming closer to him on the sofa, so that she might lay her head against his shoulder._

_Castle slips his arm around her and rests his own cheek against the crown of her head. She feels warm and safe and loved like no other time she can remember._

_"Whatever we want to happen. We can take things slowly, Kate. There's no rush to do anything you're uncomfortable with. In fact, it's been such a long, exhausting day it might be best if I go now. Let the dust settle."_

_Kate tenses before she speaks, her relaxing muscles coiling tight once more. "Is that what you want?"_

_Castle can tell from the strain in her voice that this isn't what she really wants to happen next._

_"I want whatever you want," he assures her. "Whatever will make us both happy and secure."_

_"Then please...stay with me tonight?"_

* * *

They sit on the sofa staring at one another for what feels like a very long time but in reality is less than five minutes; tired eyes absorbing, caressing, memorizing what is now being offered, shared and traded between them.

Kate holds Castle's hand in her lap and she circles the peaks and troughs of his knuckles with her thumb, repeating the same soothing movement over and over until he shivers, flinching at the ticklish sensation and tries to pull his hand away.

"What?" laughs Kate, frowning at him shyly. "You have tickly knuckles? Wow! That's new. I'm filing _that_ factoid away for future use," she grins, reclaiming his hand and laying it flat on her thigh, toying with each of his fingers this time.

She maps and meanders up and down their length, tracing the outlines of each sturdy digit, skimming over every well-manicured nail, and it's such a simple act – touching his hand - but something she's never really done before in this sense. She's held his hand, sure; to provide comfort after a shock, to share some sense of solidarity after facing mortal peril, back when handholding was the only acceptable form of touching they could engage in without blowing their hearts wide open to themselves and everyone else around them. So never has she held his hand like this before, when they both know what it means. This newness lends it an intimate, erotic edge, touching for touching sake, for giving pleasure and feeling closeness, for communicating love.

"And what might you do with such information, Detective?" flirts Castle, watching her closely while she touches him.

"Mmm, dunno know," she shrugs, a clever smile curling her lips and a dangerous glint flashing in her eyes. "Could come in useful at the precinct. You never know. Wandering hands under the conference room table? Captain Gates on the warpath. I'm picturing you in _big trouble_ with my boss if you start squirming in your seat while Gates is talking, Castle."

Castle laughs at her mischievous sense of humor. "You'd _do_ that? You'd actually hang me out to dry in front of Iron Gates? You wicked, wicked—_Mmpfffh!_" he exclaims in surprise, when Kate lets go his hand and suddenly silences him with a resounding kiss that almost topples them both.

Her hands grip his shirt and she edges nearer until her knee prods his thigh. Castle seems unsure, and after a second or two he pulls out of the kiss until their lips are barely brushing, hovering there with an uncertain, pained look on his face, until Kate lets go of his shirt to cradle his cheeks instead, fingers curling around his jaw behind his ears. She tenderly strokes her thumb beneath his eye socket, and rubs her cheek against his, breathing the same air as him, giving him time to come round to this surprising new incarnation of them.

"Castle, it's okay to kiss me," she whispers, opening her mouth against his damp lips, making another gentle sweeping pass so that her skin brushes against his skin and she literally tingles all over, overwhelmed by the effect he has on her, by the startling need being so close to him stirs in her.

Castle touches her arm lightly and then sits back, putting a little space between them. Traces of uncertainty still linger with him. She can see it in his clouded eyes; the unreality of the day and the night that has just followed, the bruises all still fresh.

Kate tips her head to one side, her smile gentle and full of understanding.

"Hey, it's getting late. I'll dump these in the kitchen and we can turn in," she tells him, one hand resting on his shoulder to brace herself as she uncurls her limbs from the sofa and stands.

One step at a time.

* * *

She's just about to gather up their dirty mugs when Castle tugs on her hand, sending her tumbling back down into his lap. Kate squeals in surprise when he catches her and then she sinks into him, grinning and shaking her head in admonishment as he tightens his arms around her waist to keep her there. But the truth is she's so relieved to have him behave like this. She wants him to be bold and confident with her, not tentative.

"That was a sneak attack. Not cool, Mr. Castle," she scolds for effect, since that is the role expected of her.

They're learning as they go how to do this dance together, and it's hesitant and uncertain and slightly awkward as a result. But the music is still playing and they can both hear the same song, so they'll get there; they'll achieve a perfect ten eventually.

"I prefer the word 'stealth', Detective Beckett. Sounds more..._covert_, more manly."

"Oh, so you think you're manly, do you?" teases Kate, squirming when he flexes his fingers against her sides in retaliation at the implied slight.

"I like to think I have a manly trait or two," he parries back, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"Such as?" challenges Kate, raising one lone eyebrow in question.

"Why don't we leave the dirty dishes until morning and I'll show you," he risks suggesting, watching as Kate's pupils enlarge and her breathing becomes more rapid and shallow.

Her cheeks flood with high color and her eyes glitter daringly. "Come to bed with me?" she asks, standing and holding out her hands to him so he'll do the same.

"That—I'm sorry, Kate. I was teasing. I said we could go slow and I meant it. I don't want you thinking I'm—"

"S_hhh_," she whispers, touching his chin to stop him explaining himself any further or talking them out of this.

"Come to bed with me, Castle," she repeats more firmly, taking his hand and leading him out of the living area.

* * *

Her bed looks huge all of a sudden, looming out at them from the middle of the room, practically screaming sex! The comforter is creased where she slept on top of it earlier this evening – what now feels like a lifetime ago.

Kate walks around the bed smoothing out wrinkles and plumping pillows for some ridiculous reason that might have something to do with a sudden onset of nerves, given that actually sleeping together, even if that just means cuddling tonight, will destroy the look of the covers the second they get in beneath them.

Castle appears behind her and lets his hands come to rest on her shoulders. Kate stops what she's doing and slowly straightens up. She leans back against him, releasing a slow, shaky breath when he wraps his arms around her from behind. "Which side is yours?" he whispers in her ear, the humor in his voice making her smile.

"Don't you mean which side is yours?"

"Tomato tomahto," he argues back, kissing her cheek. "You have to go into work in less than five hours, Kate. You need to get some sleep."

"Are you abandoning me?" she asks, turning within his embrace to look up at him. "Is that how this goes from now on? I ask you to spend the night with me and you pitch me to the lions by myself the next day?"

"Technically, it was a tiger but—_Ah!_" squeaks Castle, when Kate pinches his right nipple.

"_We_ have to go into work in less than five hours," rephrases Kate, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss Castle's jaw.

"_We_…I like the sound of that," he murmurs, tightening his grip on her. "So, let's get some sleep. Everything else can wait, Kate," he promises, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

* * *

She finds him a toothbrush and they brush and rinse and spit side-by-side in her small bathroom, and it might just be the most intimate and adult thing they've ever done together.

Castle is being uncharacteristically quiet. Kate assumes he's still reeling from everything that's happened to them over the last fifteen hours. She feels the same – a little punch drunk, a little introspective, bruised, shaky and a whole lot exhausted.

She touches his arm, strokes his elbow, leans in to kiss his cheek, and then slowly moves away, trailing her fingers over his wrist as she goes, leaving him in the bathroom alone.

She pulls a strappy, navy blue Calvin Klein slip out of her drawer to sleep in. The drapey, jersey fabric clings in all the right places. The cleavage is edged in navy satin, but it's nowhere near lacy or over-the-top for tonight. The time for lingerie and seduction will come. Tonight is about easing them both into this, about making up for all her past mistakes, about comfort and friendship and yes, love. Most of all it's about bringing him home.

She sheds her jeans and t-shirt, removes her bra and then slips the chemise on over her underwear. She's just folding up her clothes when she hears the toilet flush and then the sound of the faucet running. Castle emerges a minute later, looking slightly unsure and maybe a little sheepish.

Kate gives him a sympathetic smile. "Hey, I know this isn't probably the night either of us imagined when we finally did this," she tells him, watching Castle take all of her in in one long, lingering sweep.

"_You_ imagined this?" he asks, distractedly, allowing genuine surprise to bleed through in his voice.

"Well…yeah. Didn't you?" asks Kate, crossing her feet at the ankles, beginning to shiver now that she's wearing so little and she's tired and it's so late.

"No. No, of course I did," admits Castle. "I just didn't think _you_ did."

"Why not?" Kate is genuinely curious.

Castle runs a hand through his hair and then rubs his scalp. "I—" he shrugs. "I assumed I was kind of in this alone most of the time," he admits, letting his eyes meander down Kate's bare legs to her feet.

She shivers again and goose bumps rise on her arms.

"Hey, you're cold," he observes, coming closer to her. He hesitates a second before reaching for her, but she comes willingly into his arms, rests her head against his chest while he hugs her to warm her up, rubbing one hand back and forth over the cotton-clad skin of her lower back, amazed by how slight she feels pressed up against him.

"Let's get you to bed," he says, when he eventually lets her go.

He laughs quietly as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

"What?" grins Kate, glancing up at him from turning down the covers.

"Let's get you to bed? Those are _not_ words I thought I'd be saying to you when I got up this morning."

Kate laughs in agreement with his observation. "Yeah, it has been one hell of a day."

* * *

By the time Castle has shed his shirt and pants, leaving him in a white undershirt and boxer shorts, Kate is sitting up in bed beneath the covers waiting for him. She not-so-covertly watches him lay his clothes out on a chair in the corner, admiring his physique now that it is slightly less shrouded in mystery.

"Stop staring," he chuckles nervously, when he turns round to face her and begins to move towards the top of the bed.

"Hey, turnabout is fair play, Castle. You've spent the last four years staring at me. Maybe now you'll appreciate what it feels like to be observed like an exhibit in the zoo."

Castle lifts the covers and eases down beside her, squirming to get comfortable until they're sitting side-by-side.

"A _zoo?_" he laughs, shaking his head.

"Mmm, and speaking of zoos," says Kate, introducing the next subject more seriously.

"We were?"

Kate smiles. "Yeah, precinct tomorrow. Think you can spare the time to come in with me? It'll be paperwork mostly, dull, tedious, you know how it is, but—"

"Hey, try stopping me," says Castle, giving her shoulder a gentle nudge. "I'll have to give the boys my statement anyway. But there is nowhere else I'd rather be than next to you right now, _here_ or at the precinct."

"Thanks," she nods, so grateful for the enormity of this man's forgiveness.

"I want this to work, Kate. I want us to risk _everything_ we already have, throw all our chips on the table and gamble on the next part of our lives. Okay?"

He takes her hand, the closest one, which is lying on top of the covers curled around the cotton sheet and he folds it between his own warm palms. "Are you in?" he asks, holding his breath for her reply.

A dazzling smile breaks across Kate's face and she nods enthusiastically. "Okay, yeah. I'm in," she promises, resting her head on his shoulder.

When she yawns for a third time, Castle eases out from under her and begins to slip down beneath the covers, tugging her with him. "Come on. Let's get some sleep."

Castle lies on his back and Kate tucks herself in against his side, resting her head on his chest, her arm draped over his stomach, one leg thrown over his thigh. He wraps her up, kisses the top of her head and then gradually she feels his body relax beneath her and his arms begin to slacken.

She waits until his breathing is slow and steady, and then she tests out the words she's been holding inside for so long that they feel lodged there, stuck inside her like a tree grown roots.

"I love you," she whispers, pressing a kiss over his heart, before letting herself drift off, towed away to slumber in his wake, tumbling into dreams that are haunted by prowling tigers, witchy old women and rusty, rattling chains.

The last thing she's aware of is an answering gesture from her partner, whose fingers briefly tense against her spine and hip in response to her heartfelt words, before loosening again.

Then nothing.

* * *

When Kate wakes again it's already beginning to get light out. She's warm and sticky, her body heavy when she tries to move, finding herself surrounded. They are lying curled up on their sides, spooning. They must have moved during the night and found one another again, tucking into this position. It's sweet and kind of them, and the novelty of waking up like this - right next to her partner - makes her smile.

Her body is buzzing, nerves singing like livewires; as if waking from some erotic dream that has left her skin tingling and a restless ache between her legs. She glances at her bedside clock to check on the time. It's just a little before six in the morning, still enough time to consummate their relationship and make it into work without overly rushing things, though if Castle feels anything like her, it won't take much to conclude that consummation she's pretty sure.

She listens quietly for any signs of life behind her. But all is still and quiet, rhythmic breathing the only reminder that he is even here. She squirms a little, riven with a sudden impatience to wake him, to see his face light up again when he remembers. When he remembers what they are to one another now.

Soon she is a woman on a mission, moving her hips from side-to-side as restless desire fizzes through her body. On the next pass, her rear makes a glancing connection with Castle's…_Oh!_ And she freezes.

Seems he's been party to the same erotic dream she must have been having.

She moves again, pressing back more deliberately this time against him and yes, she can definitely feel it; the hardness of his sizeable arousal trapped between them. She bites her lip to stifle a groan of pure need.

* * *

Her heart is hammering now, her body flooding with heat beneath the covers, suddenly too warm now she's wrapped up in her partner's hard, masculine body; his hand on her hip, one muscled leg tangled in between hers. Even his familiar scent is doing stimulating things to her now that she's finally chosen to let her heart off its leash.

She eases the covers off her shoulders and arms to discover that one of her breasts has escaped the confines of her chemise during the night. She's on the point of maneuvering the spaghetti strap that has meandered down her arm back into position when she feels Castle's hand tighten on her hip.

She stills as his face appears beside hers and his chin comes to rest on her shoulder, his scruff scratching her skin, and he whispers, "Please…allow me?"

Kate sags back against him, smiling, allowing her head to drop back onto his chest, forcing her breasts higher in the process. Castle kisses her ear, her cheek, as his hands begin to wander. He cups the lower half of her breast, which is still covered by fabric, as his thumb sweeps over her exposed nipple and he involuntarily rubs himself against her, using his other hand to keep her hips tightly in contact with own body. His hot breath is loud in her ear.

Kate's breathing becomes shallow, almost panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly now that this is finally happening. Her heart is pounding, her face glowing, her chest and neck flushing with heat as her body screams out in response to his touch. _  
_

"Cas—" she mumbles incoherently, groaning when they both thrust together and the suggestive contact between their bodies sends a shower of sparks bursting behind her eyelids.

Castle rubs his palm over and over her bare nipple and then he tugs the rest of her chemise to one side so that her breast is fully exposed. Cold air hits her skin and she curses, so turned on that the ache low down in her abdomen becomes urgent and painful.

She raises one arm over her head, curls it around the back of Castle's neck, drawing him down into an awkward but erotic open-mouthed kiss, their tongues tangling as she cranes her neck backwards to meet his mouth hungrily.

"Time?" growls Castle, pressing a damp kiss to her neck, nipping at her earlobe with his teeth as he awaits her answer.

"Plenty," she hisses, reaching behind her to grip his hip and draw him hard up against her again, grinding back into him.

She kisses him again, wet and hot, her tongue coating his lips, circling, before diving inside to pulse against the roof of his mouth.

He roughly slides his hand flat and wide over her stomach, pressing firmly against her muscles, the ache inside her driving her crazy, enough to make her weep as he hauls her back against his own body, trapping her there.

She writhes against him, a second surge of heat flooding her face and neck, feeling more turned on than she's felt in forever.

* * *

But suddenly Castle pulls away, steadies her to slow her down. "Kate, stop. Stop. No kissing. You're getting me too excited," he groans, once he manages to tear his mouth away from hers.

Now who's sending out mixed signals?

Kate laughs a little crazily, a weak, high-pitched affair. "Isn't that kind of the point?"

"No. Believe me, you need to stop kissing me like that. We've been cooped up in that dungeon all day yesterday, _cuffed _together, and then I wake to find you half naked, gyrating against me and—"

"Gross exaggeration," she snorts, noting that he's doing nothing to cover her back up again, since his hand is still gently cupping and kneading her breast, his thumb and forefinger lazily plucking at her puckered, over-sensitized nipple.

"We have work…the precinct," he reminds her, and since when was _he_ the responsible one.

"Yes, and plenty of time before we have to go in. Unless…" She stops moving, a random damper of a thought just occurring to her.

"Unless what?" prompts Castle, lying still behind her.

"Unless you don't want to?"

The silence in her bedroom is absolute, heavy and somewhat entrancing, before Castle breaks it - not with words, but with action.

* * *

He throws the covers back so that they are both exposed from the waist up, startling Kate with this sudden movement and the rush of cool air over her flushed skin. He doesn't take long to find the other thin strap of her chemise and hook it with his index finger, slowly dragging it down her arm.

He kisses her shoulder, cups both her breasts in his large, warm hands as he begins to move behind her again, his pelvis lightly, suggestively rubbing against her rear.

"Now who's being a bad boy," grins Kate, covering his hands with her own. She closes her eyes, massaging her breasts along with him, her slender fingers pressed in between his thicker ones, revelling in the sensation of them both pleasuring her together.

She loves his hands she's decided, loves his fingers most of all, the things she can imagine him doing with those. She lets out a shaky sigh at the thought.

"Oh, fuck, yes," he murmurs, licking the shell of her ear until she moans aloud.

Kate almost whimpers when his hands suddenly leave her breasts, but the next second they're skimming her bare thighs, pushing up, up, until they hit the hem of her slip and travel further beneath the light fabric in search of her underwear.

"Oh, God!" exclaims Kate, when Castle stuns her by slipping his whole hand inside the front of her panties, cupping her between her legs without any further preamble.

She's horny as hell and twice as ready to go, but when she tries to change position to open her legs wider for him, he stops her, holding her tightly against him with his free hand and arm banded snugly across her stomach, his rock hard arousal pressing in between the cheeks of her ass from behind, his legs holding her prisoner.

"You feel that?" he growls into her ear, slipping his fingers in between her legs, finding so much moisture coating her already that he groans at the sensation.

"Mmm," she whines, nodding vigorously, as he begins to stroke her.

"This is what I was thinking about yesterday when we were…Ah! So _wet_, Kate," he purrs, already so entranced by her body and the things he's quickly learning about her. "When we were…mmm, pushing that freezer together."

"Me too," admits Kate, remembering vividly how he got in behind her and she told him he better not be enjoying it. Such a hypocrite.

* * *

Her slip is bunched up around her waist and Castle is working her to distraction, holding her body tightly against his, limiting her range of movement, and somehow being held and contained liked this while he gets her off is even more of a turn on. It's as if she is being over-powered - her will and freedom controlled by him. She would never have thought being the submissive one would work for her, but somehow with this man it just does.

She feels her orgasm building gradually, and by the sounds coming from behind her, the hot murmurs of encouragement in her ear, Castle can feel it too.

"Close," she tells him, swallowing hard, keeping up the steady rocking rhythm her partner has established.

She feels the first signs of fluttering and she bites down hard on her lip to hold herself back, to heighten and extend her pleasure.

"Stop," she whispers feverishly, squeezing her thighs tight against Castle's hand to force him to halt his movement.

He stops as soon as she asks, considerate and concerned.

"You okay?" he's asking solicitously as Kate is freeing herself from his grip and turning over to face him.

"Great. But let's do this together, hmm? I want us to do this together, Castle."

She kisses him hard, knocking the awed, grateful look off his face with the power of her embrace. The mixture of lewdness and passion behind the softness of her lips and the dirty thrusts of her tongue quickly have him as ready as she is.

Her fingers find the hem of his t-shirt and she tugs upwards, quickly helping to free him of his clothing when Castle joins in. The shirt lands on the floor somewhere over near the window when he pitches is out of bed over his head, and Kate laughs, so thrilled to discover that they can have fun doing this too, that her partner is as sensitive and considerate, fun and crazy in bed as he is in everything else.

She has her lips fused to his again when she begins attacking his boxer shorts, attempting to drag the fabric down over his hips and ample ass without breaking contact. Eventually, they have to part so he can wriggle the rest of the way out of his underwear, and they can move onto the main event.

Kate wastes no time in seeking him out beneath the covers. He curses loudly when she finally touches him, her long fingers wrapping snuggly around his shaft, caressing him.

"Oh, dear God," he murmurs, eyes rolling back in his head, his lips parted on a shuddering breath.

She strokes him carefully, staring down at his impressive length as she does so, aching with want for him. But her urgent need makes her impatient, and with her hand gripping his shaft firmly, Castle cups the twin mounds of her ass helping her slide over his thighs to straddle him.

* * *

Her legs part either side of his hips and they both still for a second, eyes finding each other in the half-light of her bedroom, gazes locked when Kate guides him towards her entrance and then slowly eases him inside, sinking down onto his shaft inch by inch until the are joined all the way.

She'd say it felt spiritual if she thought he wouldn't laugh, wouldn't tell her that that should be his line. But then judging by the look on his face she suspects he maybe feels the same. Only neither of them can find the words.

His skin is so smooth under her hands, his body so hard buried deep inside her. She feels excited, so aroused, overwhelmed and grateful in flashes of emotion that surge through her one after the other, relentlessly, making her chest feel tight and her eyes sting.

She feels Castle gripping her hips hard, his breathing shallow, stuttering, fighting every instinct he has to just move, move, move his own body until they finally chase down that perfect nirvana together. She can tell how affected he is by the reverence with which he looks at her – as if they are sealing some deal between them; signing a covenant pledging themselves to one another.

He skims her cheek with his fingertips, so much devotion in the brief gesture. She turns her head to kiss his palm. "Kate? Kate, you know I…I—" He pauses, his gaze so soft and tender, blue eyes brimming with so much that he doesn't seem able to say.

"Shhh, Castle. I know," whispers Kate in reply, slowly beginning to rise and fall against him, elegant undulations, her thighs tensing and releasing continually, until his body is forced to move with hers, the sensations flooding through both of them too intense to allow for inertia anymore.

Kate leans forward over him, needing to be close, their bodies in contact, skin sliding over skin, as she finally embraces this chance to make love to him - her partner, her best friend, now her lover.

She wraps her arms around his neck, her lips graze his ear and she shudders as he skillfully rocks his hips up into her, driving himself deeper into her body. She allows herself float on this wave of deep emotion and heighten physical sensation for a moment, before she takes a breath and whispers, "I love you too," against his cheek.

* * *

She feels his reaction to her words instantly, it's there in the sudden loss of rhythm. His shock is abundant, obvious, she hears the catch in his breathing, followed by a stunned silence.

When his lips crash against hers she squeals in surprise and delight, shocked by the suddenness and passion of his kiss; a kiss that literally steals her breath away. He cups her cheeks, kisses her forehead, plants another firm kiss on her lips and then pulls his head back to look at her.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve you. But I will cherish you always, Kate."

Kate looks at him, mystified. "_You_ deserve _me_?" she replies, shaking her head at him, tenderly carding her fingers through his dark, silky hair. Oh, silly, beautiful man.

She has opened a floodgate that he seems unable to close, more confessions quickly following.

"I'm in love with you. _So_ deeply in love with you, Kate. I don't know what else to tell you. And I don't want to scare you. I just need you to know that."

Kate nods, her smile wobbling, her cheeks feeling stiff, her facial muscles out of her own control. She swipes a tear away and watches as another splashes onto Castle's chest. "I'm in love with you too. I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

He holds onto her so tightly as they resume their gentle, loving movement, and when her orgasm breaks over her seconds later he lets her ride it out, tenderly easing her through, reveling in her amazing, graceful body as she flutters around him, until her eyes open and she smiles down at him, bright and shining and new.

"Now your turn," she whispers, licking her parched lips and beginning to circle her hips in a tight, sexy, highly arousing arc.

* * *

Castle watches her as she rises above him this time, her chemise still wantonly bunched around her waist, her breasts bare, long legs bracketing his hips. She looks wildly sexy, better than any dream or fantasy he ever managed to conjure up. Her hands are now braced behind her on top of his thighs. She rides him confidently, all while staring deep into his eyes, contact never breaking or wavering, letting him see all of her for the first time, and it's the sexiest, and yet most profound emotional connection they've ever made.

When she arches her back, thrusting her breasts high, clasping hands with him, hair tumbling is a riot of unruly curls around her face and down her back, he can't take it anymore. The sight of her grinding so desperately against him, her magnificent body gripping his so tightly, sends him spiralling over the edge. He cries out as he grits his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut, shuddering and cursing when he comes. His body pulses hotly again and again, and it's been so long, while he waited for her.

Kate lets out a gasp of surprise when she shivers, quickly finding herself climaxing again, chasing the same high as her lover, both of them unexpectedly peaking together. For a first time it shouldn't be this perfect, but somehow it is. Maybe because they've been doing this dance a lot longer than either of them realizes or will admit to.

A moment later, she collapses onto his chest, sweaty and spent, her legs aching, and Castle carefully holds her there, his palm spread wide across her back, his nose buried in her hair, pressing tiny kisses against her scalp as they both come back down to earth.

Kate can't wipe the smile off her face. They finally made it, all the fears she's been harboring for months shattered the second she was brave enough to open her heart to him. He's still the same person he was before – kind, patient, funny, forgiving and generous - and yet he is so much more to her now. She takes a quiet moment to thank her lucky stars she ever found him, and she makes the universe a promise that she will do her very best to cherish him from now on.

* * *

They drift quietly for a few minutes, touching instead of talking for a change.

When Kate playfully walks her fingers up over the curve of his biceps, Castle blinks open his eyes, watching her toy with him, amused and fascinated by this new, softer version of Kate.

"We're making a habit of this, waking up next to one another. That's two days in a row," she points out, looking up at him from beneath her dark lashes.

"Not drugged this time, thankfully. Unless you count your kisses."

"Oh, cheesy," she groans, shaking her head and flicking his shoulder.

Castle chuckles. "And not cuffed either."

"Mmm. Think we'll wait a while before doing that again," grins Kate, leaning her chin on her hands to look at him.

She licks the salty skin of his chest and plants kisses across his collarbone, transfixed by his body, aching to explore more of him, to spend days in bed doing nothing but letting him feel how much she loves him.

"I knew we'd be good at this," says Castle, his filter still obviously switched off.

Kate laughs and buries her face in his neck. "Please tell me we won't be one of those smug couples. The boys would never let us live that down."

"Ugh! The boys," groans Castle, flinching as he briefly rolls them to one side and then flops onto his back again.

"What? What's wrong?" she asks, patting his chest.

"Look at the time. We have to go," he groans mournfully, a petulant scowl on his face.

"_Mmm_," purrs Kate, crawling up his body, ready to go again. "How do you feel about shower sex?"

_TBC..._

* * *

_Hope everyone is having a lovely weekend. Thoughts?_


	9. Chapter 9 - For Sale By Owner

_A/N: Thank you so much for all of your reviews and thoughtful messages. Your support and enthusiasm is what keeps a story going and keeps me smiling. _

* * *

"_Run away with me tonight_

_Let the moon bathe us in its light_

_Come on I'll take you to paradise, to paradise"_

_**- Lily & Madeleine**__, 'Paradise'_

* * *

**_Chapter 9 – For Sale By Owner_**

They look utterly ridiculous.

Somehow, despite an overflowing closet to rival any professional fashionista, Kate has ended up wearing a plaid shirt that practically matches Castle's. Okay, so maybe the colors are different, but the idea is exactly the same. And her jeans might as well have been plunged into the same vat of indigo dye as his too because when their long legs hit the sidewalk in perfect union, she could swear that the color is identical, even under the unforgiving microscope of early morning sunlight.

So, yes, they look ridiculous already, a mere handful of hours into this new coupledom of theirs. And yet she can't stop smiling.

Their outfits match and her body is aching in places she didn't know she had places, and they've decided to keep this new status of theirs from their friends and colleagues for now, though they have a threadbare chance of maintaining that pretence because they're dressed like a couple from a Ralph Lauren spread and she can't find the gumption to care because she's in love with him. So ridiculously, head-over-heels, stars in her eyes, laugh out loud in love with him.

But for now, try they will.

Of course all of this is before you get to the love-struck, slightly delirious, flushed looks on their faces. They have 'we just had mind-blowing sex and we still can't believe it ourselves' written all over them. Their eyes are shining glassily and their hands brush the higher the elevator rises, no matter that they're pressed into the small, metal box along with two burly uniforms who're both standing behind them being far too quiet for Kate's liking.

"We're going to be terrible at this part," groans Castle, as they exit the elevator, trying to force their bodies to walk further apart, while being endlessly drawn back towards one another like iron filings to a magnet.

* * *

"Well, well, would you look at mom and dad," mutters Ryan, kicking the underside of Esposito's desk to get his attention.

The metal feet of the cheap, NYPD-issue furniture scrape against the wooden floor and Esposito's head jerks to attention. "What?"

"Remember when we dropped them off last night? Castle didn't even say goodbye to Beckett."

"So? What's your point, Oprah?"

"_So_…just look at them now," hisses Ryan through gritted teeth. "Do they _look_ like they've been fighting to you?"

Esposito narrows his eyes, flicking his gaze from his boss to the writer and back again, trying to establish the difference his partner is claiming to see. They round the corner out into the open area of the bullpen, finally materializing from behind the screening veil of the metal grill and…

_Bingo!_

Beckett is smiling and Castle looks like a man who just got seriously laid.

"Now you mention it, bro, another word beginning with the letter 'f' kinda springs to mind," concedes Esposito, reaching over to fist-bump his partner.

The detectives lean back in their chairs, arms crossed, lounging lazily as they watch Castle and Beckett get closer, both cops looking primed for mischief.

* * *

"Nice coordination," remarks Ryan, pointing to Castle's shirt. "Did you call her up or—?"

"Or is this the latest upgrade to that creepy sentence finishing software you guys have embedded in your necks?" jokes Esposito.

"Funny," mutters Castle, taking his jacket off and throwing it over the back of his chair, fully exposing his dark green plaid shirt to the bullpen. It's only slightly wrinkled he told himself when he put it on this morning, after a night spent lying badly folded on Kate's bedroom chair.

Kate wisely keeps her navy blazer on for now as she stands with her arms crossed, frowning at her desk.

Her chair is missing. No, scratch that. Her chair has been _moved_, rolled round behind Castle's old chair for some reason.

This has prank written all over it, and she's not sure who or what yet, but she'll find out soon enough and make them pay.

She circles her own desk, eyeing the boys warily, and then she reaches for her chair, planning on wheeling it back to its proper position with as little fuss a possible. But when she tugs on it, the wheels won't move.

Someone titters. A clanking sound draws her attention down below the seat to the foot of the chair. Somehow, some wiseass has managed to cuff her chair to Castle's using two pairs of handcuffs linked together.

Kate stands with her hands on her hips surveying the two chairs, tapping her foot on the floor, while Castle stands off to one side with the knuckles of his balled fist pressed into his mouth to stop himself from laughing presumably.

"You think this is funny?" she asks him, turning her fake-annoyance on Castle to throw the boys off the scent.

"I—" Castle shrugs, biting his lip, making a show of looking terrified and chastened, while the boys smirk at him and pull faces behind Kate's back.

"Break room. _Now!_" she orders, pushing Castle ahead of her into the mercifully empty kitchen.

She shuts the blinds rather violently, fighting back a snigger when she sees Esposito and Ryan flinch in unison when she finally prevents them from being able to peer at them through the break room window.

* * *

When she turns round, Castle is lounging back against the counter watching her, coffee machine already working hard to output two shots of espresso for their coffees.

She sashays towards him, a naughty look on her face, and when she reaches him she plants her hands either side of his torso on the edge of the counter, trapping him against it with her own body.

"How you holding up so far?" she asks, rubbing her thumb back and forth over his elbow.

"Hopeless. You?"

Kate bursts out laughing and shakes her head, tipping even closer towards him. "Not much better. Castle, they _cuffed_ our chairs together. Did you see that?"

He darts a glance over Kate's shoulder at the closed break room door and then he risks touching her, because there is nothing he wants to do more right now than feel her lithe body under his hands.

"I saw. Put you in the mood?" he asks with a mischievous quirk of his eyebrow, fingers lightly kneading the soft flesh of her hips.

"For using my cuffs…on _you?_" chuckles Kate, her voice reduced to an intimate whisper.

"Uh…on _me?_" chokes Castle, laughing with her. "What made you assume _I'd_ be the one we cuffed?"

Kate tugs on his shirt collar and then smooths her hand down over his chest, a naughty smile playing at her lips as she watches him turn to putty in her hands. "Well, they kind of _are_…_my_ cuffs, Castle, so…" she shrugs and turns away for a second before immediately pivoting back towards him.

"And just for the record, was that a bona fide objection to a little light bondage, Rick? Should I add that to my list of new things I'm learning about you now that we're…you know," she smirks, tugging suggestively on the front of his belt.

"You mean now we're sleeping together?" replies Castle, staring her down, in no way prepared to let this newly sexualized Kate Beckett use her feminine wiles to get round him. Well, not much.

He's also intent on repeating the fact that they are sleeping together as often as he can get away with because she is gorgeous, sexy, fun, _very_ enthusiastic in bed, and with a body like hers…well, he couldn't really ask for more. And that's before you get to the single most amazing fact of all – that she's in love with him, just as much as he is in love with her in fact. He has to keep pinching himself to believe that last night and this morning actually happened. He's spent so long fantasizing about being with her and now that they are actually together, yep, he's going to keep reminding her that they are sleeping together every chance she'll permit him.

"You like saying that, don't you?" grins Kate, leaning on him to reach for a paper napkin on the counter behind his shoulder.

Castle's eyes widen when her body fully connects with his all along the length of it, every hard muscular line and soft feminine curve. Is she trying to kill him already?

"I'm hoping you like _doing_ _that!_" he blurts, reveling in the weight of her leggy body pressing his back into the counter's edge.

* * *

He pouts when she stands up straight again, sensibly putting some space between them in case someone walks in.

"Sorry, doesn't exactly constitute 'keeping a respectable distance'," she apologizes, following up on the brief 'decency in the workplace' chat she gave him this morning on their ride into work.

The fact that she had just laid him out on the floor of her shower half an hour before, eventually flipping them so that he was lying on top of her going for Olympic Gold in aquatics or whatever, while the steamy, hot water pounded into both of them, kind of ruined her argument a little. But he is _so_ not complaining. No sir. No ma'am. No way.

"And for the record, Detective," he murmurs, hands now busily engaged in making their coffees, while Kate lounges on the counter beside him, "I am good with the light bondage you describe, whomever, whenever or wherever you wish."

He glances at her sideways and his heart contracts at the look on her face: the gentle but excited smile and the gleam of pure happiness in her eyes.

"God, you look amazing," he whispers reverently, depositing her cup down heavily on the work surface to turn towards her again. His heart is suddenly hammering, the thrum of his own blood whooshing loudly in his ears. "I…I just—"

He shakes his head, bites his lip and forces himself to turn back to what he was doing.

"Kate, I'm sorry," he murmurs, getting his emotions back in check. "I promise I'll get better at this. I—"

Kate gently touches his wrist and leans in close. "Hey? Don't try too hard, okay?" she tells him softly, giving him a sympathetic smile. "You'll make _me_ look bad."

* * *

She's just backing off when there's a sharp knock on the door. It swing opens immediately without waiting for any response.

"Sir," exclaims Kate, instinctively taking another step away from her partner, even though they are already standing several feet apart.

"Good morning, Detective. _Mister Castle!_" nods Gates, speaking particularly formally when she addresses the writer.

"Everything okay?" asks Kate, making a preemptive strike to take control of the conversation.

Gates studies Kate for a second and then switches her attention to the writer. "I was just about to ask you the same thing," she says enigmatically.

"_Sir?_" questions Kate, unsure what Gates is driving at, her own guilt bleeding through into her voice nonetheless.

Gates attention snaps back to Kate mercifully, since Castle is in the process of trying to shrink in size so as not to fall under suspicion, though he's failing miserably to make himself any more inconspicuous given the too-happy smile he's currently sporting.

"No ill effects after yesterday's little escapade?" their Captain asks, studying Kate closely as she awaits a reply.

Kate shakes her head. "Nope. _You?_" she turns to ask Castle.

The writer shakes his head too, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

"No. All's well here, Sir. Nothing a good night's sleep in our own bed…I—I mean _beds_, couldn't cure," adds Kate, inwardly cringing at her slip-up.

Gates narrows her eyes at Kate once more, darting them away with lizard-like speed in an attempt to catch Castle out. But the writer has turned away to finish steaming milk for their coffee and so lets himself off the hook. Gates is unable to see the smile he's trying to get under control as he plunges the tip of the steam wand into a metal jug of cold milk.

"Good," she purrs stiffly, giving the room another suspicious sweep before heading for the door. "Make sure you give Ryan and Esposito your statements. Oh, and don't forget the new rule about calling in your location before you go wandering off anywhere," she adds disapprovingly.

* * *

Kate sags back against the high table in the center of the room the second Gates is safely out of earshot.

Castle chuckles quietly as he spoons creamy foam on top of Kate's cappuccino. "_Our_ own bed?"

Kate rolls her eyes and shakes her head, a helpless smile on her face. "I didn't claim to be any good at this. I just told you what I thought we needed to do to keep it under wraps."

"Keep _what_ under wraps?" comes Ryan's voice from somewhere behind them. Esposito is peering over his shoulder as they both loiter in the break room doorway.

"Oh, for God's sake. Don't you people know how to knock?" demands Kate.

Swiping her coffee off the countertop, she makes for the door, pushing out of the room by shouldering her way between the two gawking detectives.

"Yo! Castle? What's got Beckett so steamed?" asks Esposito, thumbing over his shoulder at their seemingly furious boss.

Castle keeps his back to them as he takes his time finishing up his own coffee to buy himself a little breathing space.

"You moved her chair, guys," he improvises, tutting slowly for effect and shaking his head. "You know how attached she is to her chair."

The boys look skeptical when he turns round with his own coffee cradled in his hand. They stand shoulder to shoulder, attempting to bar his exit. "She's really that upset about a little prank?"

Castle shrugs. "You heard her. Seems that way."

"So, you guys sort yourselves out?" asks Esposito, clearly on some kind of a fishing expedition.

"What do you mean?" Castle asks suspiciously, wishing they would just move aside so that he could get back out there to sit by Kate's side and stare in awe at the wondrous beauty who is now all his.

He can see her over the heads of the boys, watching him warily from over by her desk, obviously wondering what they're questioning him about.

"Well, you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife when we dropped you home last night, bro."

"I think you're imagining things."

"Beckett looked like she hated your guts, Castle," points out Ryan.

"And now she clearly…_doesn't_," adds Esposito, fingering Castle's lapel.

Kate appears behind the two nosey detectives, so quietly that they don't hear her approach. Ryan practically levitates when she barks, "Castle, a word," right by the Irish cop's ear.

"Sorry, guys," shrugs Castle, maneuvering between the men with a look meant to telegraph his own fear and trepidation at being called on by his partner.

* * *

He meets Kate over by her desk, his face brightening into a goofy grin as soon as he's sure the guys can't see him. "Hey. What's up?" he asks softly, so that only Kate can hear him.

"Nothing. Just thought you might need a little help getting away from Tango and Cash over there."

Castle wiggles his eyebrows. "What kind of help did you have in mind?"

Kate's face flushes and her eyes are sparkling when she leans in to reply, just as a crafty idea occurs to her. "Actually, I'm kind of running low on pens."

"Pens?" repeats Castle, with a knowing glint in his eye.

"Yeah, pens and notepads and maybe paperclips too."

"Sounds kinda…_heavy_. You need a little help carrying all of that?"

Kate bites her lip to stop herself from laughing. "I could use an extra hand, yes," she tells him with a meaningful lift of her eyebrow, the one he finds so incredibly sexy, the one that has a naughty, suggestive life all of its own.

"Supply closet?"

"Five minutes."

They're just about to go their separate ways when Gates pokes her head out of her office door.

"Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle, a word if you please?"

Kate's shoulders slump.

"Jeez, what did we do now?" grumbles Castle, setting down his untouched coffee to follow Kate into the Captain's office.

* * *

They line up side-by-side in front of Gates' desk, keeping a good couple of feet of space between them to avoid further temptation.

"It seems your endeavors to help end the trafficking in endangered species, however accidental and foolhardy they may have been," she adds, granting Castle the recognition for this part, judging by the pointed stare she gives him, "have reached the ears of the Mayor's office. His honor sits on the board of the Wildlife Preservation Society would you believe, and so he has decided that he would like to make a little political capital out of the whole…_fiasco_."

Kate is about to protest when Gates holds up her hand. "I know what you're going to say, Detective. The workings of that man's mind are as much a mystery to me as…" She scouts about for a suitable simile, finding an easy one in the resident writer-come-civilian investigator standing before her. "As much a mystery to me as the workings of _Mr. Castle's_ mind."

"Glad to be of service," pipes up Castle, before he actually computes the insult-disguised-as-compliment Gates has just paid him.

He frowns at his shoes while Kate stifles a giggle beside him.

"What do we have to do, Sir?"

"Press conference at Gracie Manson in an hour and a half. Do not be late."

"Yes, Sir."

"Oh, and Detective, you might want to—" She puckers her face in displeasure as she waves her hand between the Detective and the writer. "Go change. Look a little more NYPD and a little less…_Nashville_," she adds, witheringly. "Cameras will be there. Do _not_ make me regret agreeing to this."

"Of course, Sir," bites out Kate, quickly turning away before Gates can add any further insults to the pile she just managed to dole out in the space of a couple of minutes.

She pushes Castle out of the Captain's office ahead of her, her fingers itching to touch so much more than the center of his back when she feels the heat of his skin radiating through his flannel shirt and the jump of his muscles under her hand.

They head straight back to her desk to collect their coats and belongings.

"Where do you think you're going?" asks Esposito, spinning around in his chair to look at Castle, who's currently buttoning up his coat.

"Press conference with the Mayor," replies Castle, with a certain smug satisfaction.

"Play nice while we're gone, boys," teases Kate, throwing her colleagues a wink, before sweeping back out of the bullpen with Castle in tow less than half an hour after they arrived.

* * *

They giggle their way down in the elevator, eager hands reaching for each other the second the doors close.

"God, this is killing me," growls Castle, before sliding one hand beneath Kate's hair to cradle her head, the other one finding the pert curve of her ass and squeezing a handful of plump flesh. "You smell amazing."

Kate moans loudly when Castle kisses her so fiercely that her pulse rate skyrockets, the torrent of sensations suddenly flooding her body making her dizzy, forcing her to cling onto him just to stay upright.

They finally pull apart a mere few seconds before the elevator settles on the ground floor, delivering its own heavy dose of gravity to add to their lightheadedness.

"Here…wait. You have a little eh—" murmurs Kate shyly, reaching up to gently wipe a smudge of lipstick from the side of her partner's mouth with the tip of her finger.

Castle looks at the floor, trying to center himself again before they have to go out in public, equally as affected by Kate as she is by him.

Kate reaches for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze of reassurance. "Tomorrow morning," she says, glancing up at him with such openness and hope in her eyes.

"Yeah?" asks Castle, his voice lifting, mirroring her look of hope.

"Want to make it three for three?" she suggests with a tentative grin.

"You mean waking up together?" asks Castle, an eager smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Kate nods. "We have to go home and change now anyway. I could pack a bag," she offers, trying to act cool, like she isn't inviting herself over to sleep at her partner's place because she can't bear the thought of spending another night apart from him.

"You'd _do_ that?" asks Castle, amazed she isn't asking for space or putting a break on things to slow them down.

"Unless you think it's too much too soon? I mean with Alexis and your mom and everything. Maybe you want to—"

"Beckett, I swear if you say one word about slowing this down after everything we've been through to get here."

Kate grins, so relieved. "Good." Then she shakes her head. "Because I don't want to slow anything down. I'm in this, Castle. I love you."

* * *

The elevator bell suddenly dings, announcing their final arrival at their destination, and they both turn to face front.

"Let's pack a suitcase," blurts Castle, chuckling when Kate bends double, laughing exuberantly at his enthusiasm.

"Suitcase it is then," she agrees, scuffing her toe on the floor as the elevator doors slide open.

"You won't regret any of this," murmurs Castle, surreptitiously tangling his fingers with hers as the roar of the precinct's public entranceway rushes in to meet them.

"I don't intend to. This is it for me. One and done," she tells him over the noise, giving the stunned looking writer a gentle nudge.

"So…shall we go see the Mayor?" suggests Kate, while they both stand frozen to the spot with the elevator doors about to close on them again.

"Sure, why not," shrugs Castle, since he'd basically follow this woman anywhere she asked him to go.

He's Kate Beckett's one and done. You only get this lucky once in a lifetime and he doesn't intend to waste it.

* * *

They walk out into the street together, arms brushing, shoulders and hips bumping happily because they're fighting a losing battle trying to stay apart. The sun streams down from between the clouds, bathing them in a spotlight of warmth that seems fated as they walk towards Kate's car, and for once Richard Castle can't help but feel truly blessed.

Kate unlocks the doors, and then she pauses to regard Castle across the roof of her Charger. She gives him a thoughtful look, her head tipped to one side as if she suddenly remembered something. "You know, Castle, I'm pretty sure I heard someone say that your friend, The Mayor, has the power to _hitch_ people."

Castle's eyes widen and his jaw drops open just a fraction as Kate continues with a mischievous look on her face.

"Not that we would ever consider using that word with any permanent, romantic, life-changing colloquial connotation or meaning," Kate quickly adds.

She taps the roof of the car a couple of times with the tips of her fingers, her expression still somewhere between thoughtful and prankster, and then she ducks her head as she slides inside, suddenly disappearing from view.

It takes a blast of the siren to break the awe-stuck writer out of his daze.

Maybe he will admit to using the word hitched after all. Since he's coming round to liking every meaning, reference, association, suggestion, undertone, overtone, nuance, subtext, synonym, derivation, inference and implication that those seven little letters can hold.

Not unlike another seven letter word beginning with 'm' he could think of, a word he never thought he'd want attached to his name ever again…until, that is, he met Katherine Houghton Beckett.

_The End._

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed that post-ep for 'Cuffed'. Love to hear your thoughts. Liv_


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